


Nocturne

by corporatebat (ventruemethuselah)



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Camarilla, Camarilla Lore, Childe & Sire Interactions, Childe/Sire Bond(s), Corporate life, Embrace, Eventual Smut, F/M, LaCroix is Ventrue Daddy, LaCroix love, Lore friendly, Romance, Slow Burn, Vampires, Ventrues in love, Violence, WOD Easter Eggs, World of Darkness, World of Darkness Lore, agoge, becoming a Ventrue, office life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-05-13 01:31:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 92,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ventruemethuselah/pseuds/corporatebat
Summary: Being a fledgling is hard, especially when your sire is the prince.





	1. Interview with the Vampire

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, frist I have to thank obscurehistoricalinterests on tumblr for giving the 100% inspiration for my pseudonym on here! Some of you have probably already read the first chapter on my tumblr, but I have decided to put the story up here as well. As I play VtM the PnP as well as the Video Game, I wanted to be as lore-friendly as possible. Enjoy!

This was the moment Manon had been waiting for so long. She had bought a dress, especially for this occasion, that screamed “business” and had put her black hair up in a neatly looking bun. Yesterday she even had been to a nail salon, knowing that slightly bitten nails would not look properly. Also the elderly woman, who had done her nails, had been nagging about all the paint from her recent painting session that had been a pain to get off her skin.

Her fingers were sweaty, as they clung tightly onto the paper folder she had brought, that contained her curriculum vitae, her portfolio and a description of the projects she had been working on. Silently she prayed to the heavens that her sweaty fingers wouldn’t stain the material, because this would look more than unprofessionally.

To even get the chance of having an interview at the LaCroix Foundation was a huge honour, and Manon planned not to throw this chance away.  
She had written loads and loads of job applications to different companies for all the job offers in her sector she could find. Most of them didn’t write back but the ones that did, mostly complained about her not having enough experience.  
Considering that she had just graduated from one of the most prestige technical universities, she found that reason more than ridiculous.  
But the LaCroix foundation had replied and invited her to an interview.  
Manon had been to a couple of job interviews before, but they had always been with some people from the human resource department and maybe one or two guys from other departments, but the fact, that it said, that she was meeting up with the company’s CEO was more than weird. The job she applied for wasn’t an internship, but it wasn’t that important either. The circumstances were surprising, but for her another reason not to waste this opportunity.

She got this, Manon thought, trying to memorize the details about the company, she had read on Wikipedia and the corporate website.  
Founded in 1949 in New York,… Import, Export,… 

Slightly reassured she took a deep breath, as the elevator was going up. She needed to get to the penthouse, the top floor of this 100 story building, she remembered.  
She could do this. She was a professional! How many presentations had she done in her life and her career? She had even managed to fund their goddamn college online learning portal. But convincing some tutors or deans was something completely different than convincing the head of a multi billion dollar company.

 

With a loud “bing” the elevator stopped and the doors opened up.  
Manon had found it very strange, that they had scheduled her appointment for 8 PM. It was already dark outside and the streets of LA were already flooded with Party goers.  
But well, maybe the CEO was just really busy. She was grateful that she even managed to have a personal meet up with them.

She entered an elegant area, that was not quite properly lit. Maybe she had misread the email and it a said 8 AM? Panicked, she took out her phone again to check it, but it definitely said PM. Of course! Also the overweight security guy had told her that she was expected. With a relieved sigh, she looked around. Silver and dark grey were the dominating colours here and she quickly discovered a help desk that, to her misfortune was completely deserted.  
When she approached the desk, she noticed a letter lying there with her name on it.  
Curiously she took it and opened the envelope.

“Miss Lovett,  
As the help desk assistance has gone home, I need you to find my office at the end of the hallway. It is the last door, directly centred and then up the stairs. –SL”

Manon lifted both of her eyebrows. Strange. Normally companies wouldn’t just let their applicants wander around freely. But a glance to the ceiling confirmed her suspicion, that this whole floor was being monitored by several security cameras.

After passing the hallway that was framed by a number of dark and modern doors, she reached the one, similar to them, at the end and stepped into a huge hall with a doubled marble staircase that lead up to a door made out of wood, that was heavily decorated.  
Nervously she ascended the marble steps and came to a hold in front of it.

Should she knock? She decided to do so, and soon she heard a voice saying “Come in!”  
“Right… you can do this!” she whispered to herself, before she bit her tongue, straightened herself up and entered the room.

The office was huge and the bright lights were hurting her eyes slightly, as they were just accustomed to the dim lights in the elevator. But they quickly got used to it.   
This office didn’t look like she had imagined it to be. It wasn’t modern, quite the opposite.  
On the walls were antique oil paintings in expensive looking gold frames and curtains made of heavy dark red velvet. The floor was out of wood, forming shapes and was partially covered by exquisite Persian carpets. Above her, on the high ceiling she saw a huge chandelier.   
She noticed someone clearing their throat and snapped out of admiring the room.

At a desk, that could have easily been from the set of a rococo theatre play, there was sitting a young man, probably in his early or middle 20s, wearing a perfectly fitting suit, made out of an exalted material. Everything about him seemed perfect, from his pale skin to his side parted blonde hair that was neatly arranged in an expensive looking haircut. 

Manon swallowed hard at how good he looked, and tried hard not to stare.  
He was very attractive, but he probably already knew that.  
Also it didn’t help that she had a real soft spot for blond pale men, and now having this personification of her type sitting in front of her didn’t help her nervousness.

 

The man got up, and she noticed how he closed the button of his blazer in routine. He was built slim and of average height, but in comparison to Manon, who herself was rather short, he still was towering her.

“Welcome Miss Lovett!” he approached her and reached out his hand. Shyly she took it with a rehearsed firm grip (as she had heard this made a good expression on business partners) and shook it.  
As soon as her skin touched his, she noticed how cold it was. It was like shaking the hand of a dead man. But shaking her sweaty hand was probably an equally charming experience.  
Maybe he just suffered from a bad circulation.

 

“I am Sebastian LaCroix, CEO of the LaCroix Foundation!” he introduced himself, his lips slightly curling up. That his words were coated in a French accent made him even more appealing to her.   
However she had imagined the head of this company to look like, she hadn’t imagine him as a posh blond boy. Maybe he had just one of those faces that remained looking youthful, regardless of the real age of its owner. 

 

“A pleasure to meet you.” Manon stuttered against her will, a little intimidated by this successful and handsome business man. There was something odd about his eyes, she noticed. They were pale blue and had some sort of eerie glow which was alluring and threatening at the same time, completely confusing her.  
“My name is Manon Lovett!”

“I know.” He said dryly and lifted his eyebrow. Manon blushed.  
“Please, take a seat.” He continued and led her to an antique sofa, with an equally old looking side table out of reddish wood.  
On it there was a jug of water and one empty crystal glass next to a paper folder.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Her heart was beating fast inside of her chest. He didn’t waste any time with worthless chit-chat.

“Isn’t there a commission involved?” she asked innocently, her voice sounding odd.  
LaCroix frowned “That will not be necessary, your portfolio and CV convinced me that you would be probably the best choice for this job.”  
Her jaw dropped, she couldn’t believe what she had just heard.  
“You… you do?” she asked again, resulting in him tapping impatiently at the arm rest of the sofa.  
“You have extraordinarily technical skills and I am sure both of our parties could benefit good of it. A bit of …fresh blood is what this company needs.”  
The woman let out a laugh of relieve, not able to truly hide her feelings.  
“-However!” he continued “Taking the job you applied for is only one suggestion and I would rather advise against you taking it.”  
She sucked in her breath and felt like all the euphoria that had been building up inside of her had crumbled like a sand castle.   
“You have probably asked yourself, why you have this appointment with the CEO of such a big firm, when you just applied for the job in our IT department.” He continued “I ordered you here to give you the opportunity of a lifetime.”  
She blinked, not quite understanding.

“But before I tell you, you have to sign this contract, that guarantees that nothing we speak of now will ever leave this room.”  
He opened the folder on the table and gave her a piece of paper.  
She quickly read what was written on it.  
It was just a confidentiality contract, like she had signed a few times before.  
After a short hesitation she took the pen he handed her. It was heavy, suggesting that it as well had probably costed a lot of money. Inside of this posh office, she felt more than intimidated. Manon took the cap off the pen and signed on the dotted line.  
LaCroix put it back into the folder and remained silent for a moment.  
“Firstly I would like to get to know you.” He began, reaching for a pen and opening a black folder with a print of her curriculum vitae on his lap.  
“I know all the formal details, but I have some other questions.”  
She squirmed in her seat, not liking where this was going. If she hated something more than anything else it was talking about herself. But this was the point of all of this, right?

“So, please, tell me something about yourself.” He begun. Shit, an open question! She had prepared the usual phrases, like, ‘my biggest weakness is, that I work too hard’, but she wasn’t sure, if this helped her out.

“Well, I…” she began, managing to hold eye contact with him for quite a while “I am originally from London. I grew up bilingual, because my mother was French and from an early age I had developed an interest about technology. That is why I came to the US, after I graduated from Sherborn Girls – that is a boarding school in Sherborn – and studied Business Informatics.”

He nodded and opened the folder. “Top of class, a semester spend at Université Bordeaux -I… this is really impressive.”  
Manon had to blush and crossed her fingers with each other.

“So, what about your family?” he then asked and Manon didn’t really understand why.  
“Well, my parents got divorced, when I was about twelve years old and from then on I lived with my mother in central London. My father is the CEO of a very successful company that produces camping equipment and my mother taught sculpturing at St. Martins.”

“Taught?” he asked further.  
“Yes… she died a few years ago from lung cancer.” Manon confessed.  
“Sorry to hear that. And your father?”   
“He is alive and lives in Reading, I think.”  
The man looked up, his face neutral.  
“You think?”  
Manon bit her lip. Was it really necessary to tell him about her family affairs?  
“Let’s say, we don’t have the best of relationships…” she answered and he decided to let it be with that. He didn’t need to know that the only contact they had was a lousy Christmas card every year.  
“It says you are not married. Do you have any other interest of that sort? Something that could interfere with your work?”  
She shook her head, wondering about his weird questions.  
“No, I don’t have any other… interests.”  
It was kind of bitter. Her last relationship had ended half a year ago and since then, she didn’t have the time to get to know new people.  
“Are you planning on having any children in the future?”  
Her mouth dropped open at the odd question.  
This was now… a little too private for her taste, to say the least. Was it even legal for him to ask her something like that?  
“No.” she stated firmly, seemingly upset by that question.  
“Are you sure?”  
Manon lifted an eyebrow. What was this supposed to mean?  
“Yes, I mean… children are alright… if they don’t scream, but… I don’t see myself in the position of a parent.”  
He gave her a strange look, and then she told him the full truth.  
“Alright… I really hate children.”  
Seemingly content he wrote another thing down.  
“When do you prefer to work?” The next question came. This was a rather daring jump from family planning to working hours. Manon was getting more confused by the seconds.  
“How do you mean this? Which times of the day, or…” she tried her best not to cross her arms, as this would look more than unprofessional.  
He nodded.  
“Between the opening hours or… home office, perhaps?” she continued, not really understanding what he meant.  
“When is the time of the day, you consider yourself the most productive?” he explained it again, lifting an eyebrow.  
Manon bit her tongue, thinking about it for a moment.  
“To be honest between 10 PM and 3 AM. This might sound weird, but I’ve always been a bit of a nocturnal.”   
“This doesn’t sound weird at all…” he commented, while taking notes “Many people have such tendencies…”

LaCroix closed his notebook giving her an encouraging smile. Manon was tensed. Was this a good sign? Why did he even need to know all of this?

 

“Have you ever heard of the Kindred?” he asked out of the blue.  
Manon frowned, thinking if she had heard this name before. It sounded like the name of a metal band, or something, but she was sure that was not what he meant.  
After a while she gave up and shook her head. “I am sorry, Sir.”

“I supposed so. You mortals call them…” he made a humoured face “Vampires.”

Manon laughed, but stilled as she saw his deadpan expression.  
“Are you… are you serious?” she asked, thinking if this was all a prank. 

“I am.” He answered, piercing though her with his pale blue eyes.  
“Well, what about them?” Manon asked in a confused way. “Is this a vampire hunting company?”

LaCroix almost looked amused “Quite the opposite, I’m afraid.”  
Manon’s eyes went big, as she couldn’t believe what he was telling her. This man, the CEO of this company… was he really just kidding her? Maybe he just had a very odd sense of humour?

“I will give you a brief introduction.” He started “Vampires exist, yes, and we live amongst you, feeding on your blood. But we stay hidden, which is the most important rule of our society. The Kindred are organized in different clans, and I in fact offer you the chance to join the Ventrue Clan, the clan of the nobles, the aristocrats.”

She was too bedazzled to laugh anymore.  
“What?”  
Her hand reached out for the crystal glass as she filled it with water.  
Was he being serious? Or was this some kind of weird big corporate test? To prove… something to the company? That you… do not fall prone to such nonsense?  
She looked around, maybe there was a hidden camera and she was being filmed to be put on some stupid prank TV show. Nevertheless the woman wasn’t able to spot any, they must be well hidden.

“Kindred…” she repeated with a dry laugh. “What does this even mean?”  
“This is the word we use for ourselves.” He explained dead serious, making her look up.  
“We..? So that means, you… are a vampire?” Manon’s smile froze, as she had the feeling that he was ridiculing her.  
But Mr. LaCroix just nodded all earnest, his face not showing the slightest signs of jest.

“Can you proof it?” she asked him all of the sudden.  
“I beg you pardon?”   
“Proof it. That you are a vampire?”  
He rolled his eyes at the word, but then he pulled up his upper lips to reveal white, sharp looking fangs. But this didn’t convince her.  
Did he have those in his mouth before? They looked pretty realistic, some FX-Artist had done a splendid job on that.  
But this was more than ridiculous.  
Manon sighed, taking a big sip out of the crystal glass. Should she play along for a while, just for the sake of amusement? This guy was mental!

“And you say… you would want to bite me, and I’ll become one too?” she lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. You don’t hear things like this all day.  
“The dark kiss is more complicated, than just biting. Biting is just feeding on blood, but doesn’t make you a kindred.”

“Dark… kiss?” Manon quickly got up. Was this guy trying to move on to her? Well, he was very attractive, but all this talk about vampires and blood was creeping her out. Maybe this was just his thing? Roleplay with plastic teeth, pretending to be a vampire? This might was the only thing that got him going. But not with her. She didn’t have to do this, there were plenty of good jobs outside and she was just angry this French prick had wasted her time “Good day, Sir.”  
She was halfway at the door, when suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks.  
“You will come back and sit down.” He heard his rich accent.  
“I will come back and sit down.” She repeated against her will, turned around and sat back on the sofa.   
It took a moment for her to understand what was happening.  
“The dark gift offers more disciplines than that.”  
He told her.  
Manon blinked.  
“Wait, you mean…” she fell silent, but he just chuckled.  
“Yes. You didn’t want to sit down again, did you? But I made you.”  
She was speechless. Could it all be true?  
“There are more gifts I have to offer to you.”  
He continued.

“Immortality, everlasting youth, power, wealth and a complete different life. But think it well through, once you are one of us, there is no turning back.”

So there was no cure for vampirism… lovely.  
Manon took a deep breath, her brain just having to process all of that.  
“I… I am having a hard time believing you…” she then told him, making him pull up a corner of his mouth into a knowing smirk.

Manon started out to speak again, but instead all she could do was shake her head and take another big sip out of the glass.  
“That is a lot to swallow…” she muttered more to herself, than to him, feeling how her cheeks flushed bright red.  
“It is…” he suddenly answered, nodding his head, his expression still unreadable “But I am happy to answer your questions, which I am sure you have.”

Manon scoffed. There were a lot of questions, but she didn’t know which one to ask first.

“Why stay hidden?” she decided to question him at first. Couldn’t these immortals just easily rule over them?  
“Because before we went underground the humans hunted us.” He explained casually “But over the centuries we tamed you. The secrecy is the most important pillar on which our society is built. A vampire’s greatest strength is, that humans do not believe in us anymore. We call it “the Masquerade” and it is the biggest achievement of the Camarilla.”

“Camarilla?” Manon had never heard that word before.  
“That is the name of our organisation, the vampires that follow the Masquerade.” LaCroix informed her patiently. “But not all vampires are part of it.”  
She didn’t quite understand, but there was something else she didn’t quite catch on.  
“And you said something about… Clan… Clan Venue?”

“Ventrue” he corrected her, sounding almost amused. “It is the clan I am in. When I embrace you, which is the act of turning someone into Kindred, you will be in the same clan as your sire. Each clan has different strengths and weaknesses, Clan Ventrue is the clan of the kings, the blue bloods…”  
This was rather elaborate, she thought, but as it was fascinating it equally weirded her out as well.  
Blue Bloods? Why would he even want her, out of all people, to join them? She was nothing special, she was not noble (as far as she knew), nor had she proven herself in any other way, that would deem her worthy to enter this clan.

“Why me?” she then asked, speaking out what bothered her. “I’m… nothing special.”  
LaCroix turned fully to her.  
“You have what it takes to climb the top, to convince and win what is out there. Clan Ventrue would be happy to count you in.”

Manon remained silent, still feeling his eyes resting on her.

“I give you all the time to decide.” He continued. “Contact me again, if you want to accept the dark gift, if not, write an email to my secretary and we will see from there.” He said in a cold voice reaching into his pocket, handing her a shiny black business card, with a phone number, which was probably the number where she could reach him personally, without having to go through a room of secretaries.

The woman nervously looked at her hands.  
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but… it doesn’t happen everyday that a vam-… that a kindred offers you to join his clan…” she shrugged her shoulders.  
LaCroix nodded knowingly.   
She should join them? Become a creature of the night? There was one thing left, that she needed to know, before she could even consider accepting his offer.  
“Will I also have to drink blood?” Manon shyly mouthed the question that caused the biggest dread within her.  
“Yes, you will.” Was his plain answer.  
“But…” Manon bit her lower lip “This will kill them, am I right?”  
LaCroix shook his head.  
“No.” he said “Only if you drink too much. But the act of feeding is usually very pleasurable for the donor.”

“Pleasurable?” she repeated, still sceptic about the whole scenario. How could it be pleasurable to be bitten in the neck? 

“Would you like me to show you?” He suddenly asked and looked at her.   
“What?” she yelped, almost jumping up. Was he being serious?  
“I promise it will not hurt.” He assured her, tilting his head.   
Manon had a hard time to put any kind of confidence into this man – this was mental! He claimed to be a real vampire! And against her better judgement she even considered believing him.  
But there was something about him, something she couldn’t quite grasp, her mother would have said, that he possessed that certain je ne sais qua; she simply had to trust him – how could he ever betray her?

“Alright…” Manon whispered, all flustered up, and brushed her hair over her shoulder, still wagering if this was a good idea. But soon it was too late.

The woman waited, but then everything happened very quickly.  
He leaned over to her with such a speed that she couldn’t do anything about it, his lips landing on her neck. But then she felt a brief sharp pain, as, supposedly his fangs started digging into her flesh.  
And then… it was bam.  
Manon’s eyes rolled back into her head, as she desperately clawed her finger nails into his suit, her whole body shaking and high moans escaping her lips, as she orgasmed.

It wasn’t an orgasm in the traditional way, but she found no other thing that would compare to this sensation.  
She hoped this wonderful, blissful moment would never end, this beautiful man, that gave her so much pleasure could suck every last drop of blood out of her, she wouldn’t care, all that mattered, where his cold lips on her skin and the thrilling sensation that hit her body, better than any sexual encounter she had and probably would ever witness.

After an eternity, that lasted far too short he let go of her, leaving her heavily breathing on the sofa, blush crept onto her cheeks. The woman was feeling dizzy, and she could feel how his tongue licked smoothly over her bite-marks, licking the last drops of blood.  
Suddenly she smelled his expensive cologne, that was equally mesmerizing and just added to her high.  
It took only moments for her to black out.


	2. Far from Paradise

Manon woke up in familiar surroundings. She was lying on her bed, feeling comfortably numb. What a strange dream she had dreamt. Something about Vampires. About a very hot man indeed, who had offered her eternal life.  
With a sigh she closed her eyes again. She would have probably taken it, if her dream had been real. It was something she had thought about a lot… just getting away, starting over again. Truth be told, she wasn’t really happy with her life. 

Since her mother had died, the world just hadn’t been the same. Her father had been absent for years of her life. After their parents had gotten divorced, he hadn’t let much time pass until he married again. Now he lived with his new wife and his new son somewhere in Reading , living the perfectly fine suburbian dream. That he had a grown up daughter didn’t interest him.   
He did pay all of her tution, but besides that, they didn’t have any contact. She had tried, when she was younger, but his new wife wasn’t all too fond of the idea, that the child of her husband’s first marriage would be a part of her new perfect family. Her father had always been someone who just cared about the woman he was with at the moment.  
Also Manon was too much like her mother, he had told her once. Too stubborn, to proud, talking back and always wanting more than life offered.  
Why did they even come together, she asked herself on several occasions. Her mother had been an artist, creative and open minded, while her father was a diehard business man, whose imagination didn’t even suffice for a different text on her Christmas card each year.  
That was the only contact between them. A Christmas card and a check.

The couple that owned the apartment above hers, where arguing again. A plate splattered against the floor, making her flinch.  
This was a shithole of a flat. Also the landlord was a creepy looking guy, who drooled over every female in the apartment complex.   
As Manon sat up, out of a reflex she couldn’t explain, her hand was lying against the side of her neck, brushing over the skin. Nothing. What did she even expect?  
Right,… she remembered dreaming about a kiss… or had it been a bite?  
Suddenly she noticed that she was still wearing that silly business dress, she had bought for… the interview with the LaCroix foundation!  
Panic rose inside of her. The interview had been schedules for 8 PM, maybe she had been falling asleep last night and hadn’t attended it!  
Shit!  
She probably wouldn’t get a second chance there!  
The LaCroix foundation was such a big deal, she probably had managed to fuck it up!  
But then slowly, the memories of last night returned, making her gasp and shake her head as she remembered the pale blond man with his fangs and the offer he had made her.  
Vampires. Real legit vampires!  
Oh God…

Quickly she got up and was looking for her purse. She found it atop of her desk, a place she never put it, and looked for the business card she had received from Mr. LaCroix.  
There is was, her fingers traced the edges of the thick piece of paper.  
Sebastian LaCroix.  
CEO. LaCroix Foundation.  
This was more than exciting, but was she ready for this step?  
Manon sighed, opening the zipper of her dress, still looking at the card, that was in her other hand.  
She shimmied out of the piece of clothing, that pooled around her feet, and sat down on her bed again.  
This was permanent, he had told her, if she decided to become a creature of the night, there was certainly no turning back.  
Should she do it?  
This was a huge commitment, something that would change her existence as she knew it before.  
She quickly thought about all the Vampire media, she had read, watched, listened to and played in the past years. Moody creatures of the night, driven by the inner conflict, if there was any humanity left in them… existing off the blood of mortals, forever young, immortal,… maybe even wearing leather coats, but that surely was just a movie trope exploited by brainless early 2000s action flicks.

With shaking hands, she grabbed her cell phone, that, for some reason was lying on her bedside and typed the number in.  
She saved it under a new contact and put it aside again.  
Should she really call him?  
Her fingers again brushed over her neck, over the spot of skin where his lips had touched her, where his teeth dug into her flesh to suck her blood. Maybe this was the reason she felt slightly dizzy?  
Manon didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at the wall. On the floor above her, someone smashed another dish. She heard someone cry.

After long consideration she took her phone again and scrolled through her contacts until she found him.   
Funny, this was probably the first vampire in her address book. Well, the first she knew about, at least.  
Manon hesitated, but then, after taken a deep breath, she found the courage to press her thumb onto the “Call”-Icon.  
The phone dialled and she put it to her ear, to listen to the monotone beeps.  
It rang about 30 seconds, but she only reached his mailbox.  
She heard a standardized women’s voice telling her, that the person she had tried to reach was currently unavailable, and she should try again later.  
What?  
Panicked, she called him again.  
The same thing repeated itself.  
Manon called him a third time, but only with the same outcome. She wasn’t able to reach him.  
“Shit.” She groaned and dropped backwards, so her back landed on the mattress.  
Was this all a cruel joke? Was this even his number?

She rolled over and closed her eyes. What was in her for today? Maye she should go grocery shopping? The vegetables she had bought the other day were already eaten and the yoghurt in her fridge may have developed its own ecosystem during the last few weeks.  
Again she looked on her phone and opened google.  
“Sebastian LaCroix” she typed in.  
There were many hits, mostly concerning the LaCroix foundation.

She switched to the image search.  
No, just pictures of this canned soda pop, watches, a shopping mall in Marseille, a picture of the pope for some reason… whoever he was, there wasn’t any record of him on the web.

In disappointment she put her phone down and looked around in her room. To be quite frank, she had never been an extremely organised person herself and her room reflected that. Clothes were piled on the chair of her desk that was home to stacks of different books, that didn’t fit her shelves anymore. In the corner of her room, there was an easel with a canvas, which’s paint hadn’t completely dried yet. As her mother had been an art professor, she couldn’t help but to pass on some of her passion, talent and interest in this topic to her daughter.  
While her mother had almost perfected every trade of this profession, Manon had just developed a strong passion for drawing and painting. She loved to paint and when she created art, she felt like she was in another world, far off from all negative influences. When she had been younger she had even considered becoming a full time artist herself, but her father had made it clear, that he wouldn’t pay for this, so she had taken a career in the other thing she always had been passionate about – technology. 

Regardless of that, she viewed painting as more of a hobby, than anything else. She still carried her sketchbook around everywhere she went, but at the moment, she couldn’t really take the time to create something.

It was almost evening, when she got ready to go out. She had planned to meet up with Gemma, her best friend from University, who had just been back from a trip to the European capitals with her boyfriend Charlie. 

Gemma was the coolest person Manon knew. She was taller than her, had a lovely heart shaped face with pink lips and big, baby blue eyes. Since they first met she had worn her light brown hair in a chin long bob cut, that made her look like a 1920s film actor and suited her perfectly. Manon couldn’t imagine her with any other hair, Gemma once had worn a long blond wig for Halloween and she had spend the whole evening being confused about it.

It was short after nine, when she arrived at the bar, where they had planned to meet at.  
The night was buys, there were many people around and Manon was just glad, that Gemma had already occupied a small table at the bar already because the place was full.   
As soon as she spotted the woman, she immediately got up and pulled her into a tight crushing hug, the ones Gemma was notorious for.  
“Mo!” she squealed “It’s so good to see you! How are you?”  
“I’m fine, thanks!” The smaller one yelped “How was your holiday!”  
Gemma gasped and let go of Manon, her lips adorned with a mischievous smirk, before she overdramatically held her right hand underneath her nose.  
On her finger there was an expensive looking gold ring with a huge, but tasteful diamond atop.  
Manon grabbed her hand to have a closer.  
“He did not!” she spoke in awe, having to sit down.  
The taller one nodded and sat down herself. “That he did!” she sighed longingly “It was totally romantic! He proposed when we were taking a ride in the London eye, I cried like a baby!”  
“Wow!” Manon breathed and she couldn’t stop smiling. Charlie and Gemma had been together since years now and she couldn’t imagine a couple that was as perfect for each other as them.

“You are one of the first to know it!” Gemma chuckled, while Manon had her hand in hers, still examining the beautiful ring on her finger.  
“Wow, Gemma!” she smiled “This is great! I am so happy for the two of you!”  
“Pffft!” Gemma snorted, leaning back “Did you think that I ever would get married?” she laughed dryly “I wouldn’t. But now it happens, isn’t this weird?”  
Manon shrugged her shoulders, remembering how Gemma often had told her that marriage was nothing that a scam of wedding planners and bakeries, but she mostly held these sorts of speeches when she had too much wine.  
“But – as my best friend you certainly don’t want me to suffer alone, right? And that’s why I want you to be the maid of honour for our wedding!” she suddenly told her, making her yelp.  
“Oh my gosh!” she squealed “Yes, of course, I will!”  
Gemma pulled the smaller one into a tight hug.  
“Thank you so much!” she sighed “I could imagine no other for that job!”  
Manon smiled, but in the back of her head, she still remembered what she had decided.  
“Speaking of it…” Gemma leaned back and grabbed her phone “In about a week I have a job interview at Pentex, where I will be – hopefully – working in their IT department.”  
“Wow, Pentex!” Manon exclaimed excitedly “For real? Wow, this would be such an amazing opportunity!”  
“Yes!” the other nodded excitedly “It would be dope! But what about you?”  
“Me?” Manon gasped caught, not sure how to answer to that. Of course, she would have loved to tell her about the interview at the LaCroix Foundation, but she had signed a contract and so she wasn’t allowed to mention it. “I- I’m still waiting for the replies to all of the emails I’ve send out.”  
Gemma tutted at her, shaking her head.  
“Manon, you are probably the smartest person I know but… you need to learn proper self-marketing!”  
“I know…” she shrugged, looking at her drink. Suddenly her eyes landed on her cell phone that was next the her beverage on the table and the display lightened up.

“Who is this?” she heard Gemma, but Manon almost choked on her spit, when she saw the name across the screen.  
LaCroix, Sebastian.  
“Excuse me! I have to take this!” she shrieked and grabbed her phone to sprint out of the bar onto the street.  
She took a short moment to calm down, before picking up.  
“Hello?” she breathed into the speaker, her whole body shaking. So much, for acting cool.  
“Miss Lovett?” she heard his sharp voice. “I saw you called me several times, but unfortunately I am inaccessible during the day.”  
Of course…  
She swallowed hard. She should have considered this. As a creature of the night, he had a slightly different time schedule than most other people she knew.  
“I hope you are able to talk at the moment?” he questioned further, as he probably could hear the noise on the street.  
“Yes, yes… I am just currently out, but I can talk, yes…” she babbled and turned around to make sure, no one was paying much attention to her.  
“Good. So, how can I help you?” 

“I… I have made up my mind…” her voice was shaking against her will, even though she tried her best to sound as secure as she was able. “I will accept your offer.”  
He was silent for a moment, her heart pounded so loud in her throat, she was sure he would hear it through the telephone.  
“That is good to hear, Miss Lovett!” LaCroix answered. “So, when would you want to do it then?”  
“D-d-do it?” she stuttered, suddenly feeling cold. There was a slight wind outside, but this couldn’t be the only reason.  
“The embrace.” He helped her out. “Tell me, when you want to receive it. I am sure you have matters to take care of, before you…”  
“Sure,… yes, I…” she began, not able to hide her nervousness anymore.  
He sighed.  
“Listen, I understand how you are feeling now. However, there is nothing to be afraid of. How does next Friday sound?”  
Friday?   
“Perfect!” she croaked not quite sure if she really meant it.  
“Alright, now listen carefully. Do things you need to do before you become immortal. Eat your favourite food one last time, lie in the sun, do… beauty measurements you see fit, as they won’t change anymore, when you are a kindred.”  
“Wait, you mean-“ she began a bit overwhelmed “If I shave my legs, and then I become a Vampire, I will… never have to shave them again?”  
He remained silent for a moment, probably disturbed by that trivial question.  
“Basically, yes.” He then answered “but the same happens to tattoos, haircuts, body modifications, et cetera, so be careful what you do the next days. Little scars and blemishes, however will heal with the embrace.”  
Manon swallowed. She could almost imagine him sitting at his opulent desk right now.

“Alright…” she whispered, pushing her hair behind her ear, feeling herself sweat onto the phone screen already. “Where and when?”  
“I would suggest my office again, if you don’t object.” He drawled “And come whenever you like, I will take the night off so we can take our time.”  
Take their time? Was it supposed to take long?   
“How long will it take?” she had to ask him, to which he responded with a light chuckle.  
“I don’t know. It depends.” He answered her, which didn’t calm her down at all.  
“On what?” she breathed, panic arising within her.  
“My dear Miss Lovett, just relax and be patient. You will see soon enough. Is there anything else you want to know?”  
The woman inhaled deeply as she had forgotten to breathe for a while.  
“N-no, not at present…” she confessed, biting her lower lip, her fingers feeling bloodless.  
“Fine. If there is something else, feel free to call me or to write a text message.” He continued, a hint of amusement in his voice “But for now, I wish you a pleasant night. À bientôt.”   
“À bientôt…” she replied absently and suddenly heard a long beep, as he had hung up.  
Nervously she looked back at her phone, which screen was smudged with sweat.

She didn’t return to the bar yet, as she still was all flustered up. Deeply inhaling the night air, she wiped her phone display at the hem of her t-shirt, feeling cold sweat on her arms.  
This couldn’t be true.   
She didn’t know how long she had been standing outside on the street deep in thought until she realized, that she had left Gemma on her own at their table. Quickly she made her way back into the bar.  
As she sat down at their table again, Gemma greeted her with a rather impish grin.  
“So, interesting call?” the brunette asked innocently, as Manon lifted her glass up to her mouth. “What is wrong, your ears are bright red?”  
“Sorry, this was… important…” Manon sighed and took a huge sip of her whiskey.  
“But tell me, who is this Sebastian?” she suddenly asked her, making her spit her drink onto the table in surprise. How did she know?  
“What, why…” she started out, coughing, noticing how some of the other patrons were briefly looking at her.  
“I’ve seen the name on your phone screen.” She laughed, her arm resting on Manon’s shoulder. “So, who is this guy?”  
Manon threw a gaze at her friend, feeling how her ears were getting even hotter and probably redder than before.  
“Nobody…” she tried to shake it off “Just… some guy.”  
“Oh, I see!” Gemma laughed “And because of just some guy, you jump off your seat like that?”

What was she supposed to tell her now? She had agreed to keep their meeting a secret, him, the whole thing at the LaCroix foundation, but how would she manage to overplay this now?

Manon’s face was in a pained expression, as she stuffed her phone back into her handbag, signalling Gemma that she wanted to drop the topic, but this, of course, didn’t stop her.  
“Is he handsome?” she giggled, to which she rolled her eyes.  
There was no way in avoiding this conversation now. Manon huffed in resignation, deciding to just make something up, that wasn’t too obliging, something she could easily brush off in the future.  
“He is…” Manon started out, looking at the ceiling “…fit.”  
“Fit? As in…hot?” Gemma concluded, having learned that slang word from Manon a couple years before. The black haired nodded.  
“And?” Gemma kept questioning, making Manon feel like a cat on a hot tin roof.  
“Well, nothing…” Manon turned her glass in her hands nervously “It’s… I don’t even know him. Just met him yesterday…”  
“You fancy him?” her friend laughed, a tad too loud for her taste, so that the group from the other table came but to notice.  
“I don’t know…” Manon tried to shush her, by lowering her voice “It’s… complicated. He seems nice, just a little snobbish, but all together decent.”

Gemma snickered childishly.  
“’Sebastian LaCroix…” she mused. “That name sounds oddly familiar…”  
Suddenly her face fell, as she remembered something.  
“Wait a moment… Sebastian LaCroix as… in the LaCroix Foundation? The Import-Export Tycoon?” she hissed, making Manon swallow hard. How the hell did she know that, and why had Gemma heard of LaCroix when she hadn’t managed to find out anything about him at all?”  
Her face probably gave her away, because Gemma’s mouth dropped open and she quickly covered her lips with her hands.  
“Manon, are you dating the CEO of the LaCroix Foundation?” she whispered sharply, not able to hide her excitement.  
“No!” Manon exclaimed, her head flushed red “I’m not dating anyone, but… how do you even know about him?”

Gemma lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, he is only one of the wealthiest and most successful bachelors on the west coast! But all in all – he is a very illusive figure… he is rarely seen in public and his privacy is very important to him, so he never takes part in any of the events of the social elite. There is not much known about him, just that he must be about in his early thirties and he is French… so now tell me, where on earth have you met him?”

“I tried to find him on google today…” Manon testified in hopes of avoiding the question “I didn’t have any luck – so how on earth do you know all of this?”  
The woman shrugged. “You know that Charlie’s uncle works for some huge Import Export company in Texas? When he was over last Christmas I asked him about the good companies where I should apply after my graduation, and he had a lot of insight about most of the big ones, so… that’s how I knew. And also I actually read all the business magazines I buy.”  
She arched her eyebrow and Manon thought about the many magazines she had thrown away because she hadn’t find the time to go through them properly, making them ultimately a waste of money.  
“So, skip the bull, I asked you a question, honey!” Gemma leaned forward and wiggled her eyebrows.  
Manon let her head hang, trying to think of a convenient lie, she could tell her friend, although she felt miserable doing so.  
“You know… just… when I was grocery shopping.” She lied, but her friend was not convinced.  
“So you tell me, that you just happened to meet the CEO of a multibillion dollar business down at the super market?” Gemma was obviously not buying it.  
“Well, of course not.” Manon answered “He…” she lowered her voice “he almost ran over me with his limousine…”  
This was the first best thing she could think of? Manon internally wanted to punch herself for this weird story.  
“And as an apology we went out for a coffee, nothing more…”  
To her big surprise Gemma leaned back with a satisfied grin.  
“No way!” she chuckled, shaking her head, but her smile stated that she was believing her.  
“And how did he apologize?” she lowered her voice now, leaning a bit forward, so Manon could count the freckles on her nose.  
“Just… sorry and a coffee… he was nice, but that’s it.” Manon tried to end this horrendous fairy tale as quickly as possible because she felt filthy lying to her best friend like that. But what was she supposed to do? Tell her the truth? Sebastian LaCroix is my soon to be vampire boss who will turn me into one as well? Ridiculous!  
Suddenly the story with the car accident seemed more plausible than anything else.  
“How does he look like?” Gemma almost squealed like a puppy, clapping her hands, curiously.  
Manon pulled a grimace, and started to describe him as vaguely as possible.  
“He is… taller than me, pale… he has blue eyes… a straight nose…”  
“Do tell me, next you’ll say he has two ears as well!” the brunette propped her chin onto her hand “What colour is his hair?”  
Manon paused for a moment, until she gave in with a sigh.  
“Blond.”  
Now Gemma cheered and the other one blushed even more. She was the only one that knew about Manon’s secret fetish for blond man, and she used almost every opportunity to exploit this information.

“When will you see him again?” Gemma tilted her head with a toothy grin, making Manon roll her eyes.  
“I don’t even know if I will…” she then shrugged it off, but her friend pouted as a reaction.  
“Momo, it has been far too long since you’ve dated anyone… maybe it will even work out, you’ll never know, right?” Conspiratorially she leaned in closer “And even if it doesn’t, - just try to have fun, just this once. And at least you can say afterwards that you’ve been doing it with a CEO of a multibillion dollar company.”  
Manon groaned in frustration and buried her face in her hands. Sometimes Gemma was just impossible.  
“Speaking of it!” she laughed, opening her canary yellow handbag and pulling out a little wrapped parcel. “I’ve brought you this!”   
Manon glared at her, as she accepted the little object. With a click of her tongue she reluctantly unwrapped it, knowing that, if it came from Gemma, it probably was pretty stupid.  
She found a condom in a white packaging with the words “I HEART PARIS” written on it.  
“Ha-ha-ha.” Manon echoed, but nevertheless, put it into her handbag. “I am dying of laughter, as you can clearly see.”  
Gemma just smiled very smugly and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You’ll never know…” she crooned. “Maybe you will be needing this pretty soon. You know, for his… Eiffel Tower!”  
Manon, who had just taken another sip of her alcohol, had to spit it out the second time this evening, as the two women fell into hysterical laughter.


	3. Nothing more than human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O gosh, this is too angsty...

The next days, Manon had all sorts of appointments. The beauty salon, the hairdresser, the dentist… there were many things she needed to do before she would receive the… dark kiss.  
She even went as far as making an appointment for a body hair waxing, something she had never done before. To be honest, she was glad that it was probably the last time she would do this, because it hurt badly and left red stripes all over her irritated skin.  
But wasn’t this a small price to pay for everlasting hairlessness? That was definitely worth the swollen upper lip she had for a day.

The rest of the time she used for herself. She went into parks to read in the shadow of the trees or listen to music, she went out to eat at this Deli she always wanted to visit to eat a vegetarian sandwich with expensive French cheese in it, but most of the time, she just spend sitting on her bed and staring at the wall.  
The truth was – Manon was afraid.  
She was about to undergo a true metamorphosis, she would be granted a new, a different life.  
There had been moments where she was tempted to call LaCroix and blow the whole thing off, but she didn’t have the guts to do so, because after all, this was the chance of a life time.

Thursday night was the worst. Even though she had a whole day ahead of her, she couldn’t sleep because her heart was beating so hard inside of her chest due to the excitement.  
Excitement? No… it was blind fear of what was to come.  
This new life had many benefits to it, but she knew that is probably had equally as much flaws.  
Like not being able to go out during the day. In all honesty, Manon had always been more of a nocturnal, she loved the quiet of the night and enjoyed the tranquillity and the darkness.  
It was past midnight, when she decided that she wasn’t able to find much sleep, so opened her window and climbed out onto the fire staircase, like she had done so many nights before.  
Manon sat down onto the cool metal and looked over the sleeping city.  
After all it was Los Angeles, and someone was always up, but this night was relatively quiet apart from a police car that rushed down the street with blue lights and sirens.  
She felt so lonely in this huge city. Maybe this had been her destiny all along? Becoming a vampire? Manon normally didn’t believe in things like that, but with the recent things that had happened, she wasn’t so sure about it anymore. Was there more than what met the eye?   
This melancholy was probably normal, considering what she was about to do the next night. This was her last night as a human.  
Unsure she stared at the black screen on her phone, that reflected the street light.  
After thinking about it for a long amount of time, she switched it on and typed a message. 

In retroperspective this was probably stupid, she didn’t know him that well and he surely had better things to do than to calm her nerves, but she didn’t know who else she could turn to now.

“I am very nervous.” She wrote and stared at the text a couple of minutes before she found the guts to press on send.

The air smelled like the first time she had been to Los Angeles, when she just had been examining the university she would start to study.  
Would she know even consider this city her home? There was nothing left that she cared about back in England. But what about the future? Did Immortals have a home after all, or were they just stranded in time?

Suddenly the display turned bright, as a message came in. Hastely she picked it up and almost dropped it down the staircase and opened the message with shaking fingers.

“Are you still in?”

This sounded rather stoic, but after all, this was the impression the vampire had made on her.

“Yes.” She texted back, noticing how she was typing, the three little dots under his contact name were bouncing up and down.

“Good. See you tomorrow night.”

Manon sighed, putting her phone back into the pocket of her hoodie. This wasn’t very helpful. But what could she do? He didn’t really know her after all, yet he wanted to give her the gift of Immortality.

As the sun of the morning started to rise in the distance, dipping the city into a lilac shine, that slowly turned yellow, she got back into her apartment and fell asleep on the covers of her bed, only dull and feverish dreams torturing her that morning.

She didn’t sleep well, waking up every hour or so, only to fall back into an exhausting slumber, her sweat staining her pillow, the cold making her shiver.  
Did she fall ill or was it just the nervousness?  
When she finally got up, it was already 5pm. Manon felt her stomach grumble, but she didn’t dare to eat anything, as she was sure, she would probably vomit if she put anything into her mouth right now.

The rest of the day was mere torture. She spend a lot of time, staring at the little clock on her computer display, while she tried to distract herself, while watching movies and episodes of this new show Gemma had suggested she should give a chance.

It was dreadful and she didn’t even manage to concentrate on it. After a few hours she gave up to take a hot bath, trying to calm her nerves that way.

As the sun was finally setting, she got dressed in comfortable clothes and got ready for… whatever this would be tonight. She looked into the mirror, before she grabbed her handbag to leave the flat.  
There were dark circles underneath her eyes, but to her joy her eyebrows looked very neat, the lady at the beauty salon had done a splendid job. Her skin was paler tonight than usual and her long black hair was still moist from the bath before, as it had the bad habit of drying very slowly.

Should she really do this? This would be forever, permanent; LaCroix had said that there was no cure, no turning back. 

She caught a cab, that should take her to the Venture Tower. The taxi driver was a weird looking guy with dark hair and a five o’clock shadow on his cheeks. He wore sunglasses despite of the darkness and when he greeted her, she noticed that he had a weird accent, which she couldn’t quite identify.

The streets were busy, people were trying to get home or to the next party and the taxi went on slowly. Great, being stuck in traffic was the last thing she needed now.  
Nervously Manon browsed through her phone, the delay making her be in her high spirits even more.  
“Don’t worry, we will arrive when the time is right.” The driver suddenly said, making her gasp in surprise.  
“I apologize.” He continued “I didn’t mean to startle you.”  
“Don’t worry…” she muttered, noticing how he gazed at her through the rear mirror.

She was relieved, when she finally spotted the lights of Downtown Los Angeles.   
“Thank you.” She muttered, as the taxi stopped in front of the Venture tower with its entrance framed by ugly modern statues. Manon paid and gave him a generous tip, before she got out quickly, instantly tripping over her feet, almost falling down.  
“Shit!” she swore and pressed her hand against her chest.  
Everything was fine, there was no need to act all stupid now!  
She straightened up and took a deep breath, before she entered the skyscraper, seing the overweight security guard, she had already met at her first visit, sitting at his desk, seemingly asleep.  
Manon cleared her throat shyly, which made him wake up eventually.  
“Hello Miss!” he yawned, stretching his fat limbs “Can I help you?”  
“Yes!” she spoke and her voice sounded weird and shaky.  
“I have an appointment with Mr. LaCroix from the LaCroix Foundation.”  
He looked at the computer screen in front of him.  
“Are you by chance Miss Lovett?” he asked casually, clicking a window.  
“I am!” she breathed.  
“Last elevator to the right, top floor!” he explained, pointing behind him.  
She nodded thankfully and made her way to the elevator cabin, her knees feeling like they would give in under her any minute. This was worse than she expected.

When she arrived, she found the office deserted again, but this time she knew her way. Through the doors to this weird antique staircase it was. Breathing heavily, she ascended the stairs, but what she saw in front of the door, made her almost fall them down again.  
She suppressed a scream, as she saw a… she didn’t know what he was, but as she lacked the vocabulary to describe his species, she assumed he was a man. He wore a trench coat and had a ridiculously big sword strapped to his back. His face was ugly and looked like the gross leather bag, that her grandmother always used to carry around, on his head there were thick dreadlocks, that reached mid back and his eyes were almost glowing in the dim light. Also he was probably thrice her size. At first she thought he might be a really gruesome statue, as he was still, not even flinching, but as he saw her, he stepped aside, mustering her from head to toe, before he nodded towards the door, signalling her to enter.

Because Manon was too polite, she just nodded, hoping that he wouldn’t hear her teeth rattle, as she was still not over the shock.  
Straightening her body up once more, she pressed the handle of the door down to step inside the room.

“Good evening!” he greeted her.   
Sebastian LaCroix stood at his desk as if he had been waiting for her. He wore an elegant suit like the last time and his blond hair was out of his face, his demeanour blasé.  
His gaze was more than intense and she fought the urge to squirm underneath it, yet she managed to come closer.  
“Good night, Sir.” She stuttered, still a little shocked from her encounter before.  
“Who is this… man outside?”

LaCroix lifted two eyebrows. “Oh, you’ve met the sheriff?”  
‘Met’ was quite the overstatement, she thought.  
“He is my personal body guard.” He explained “It’s a title within the Camarilla… this domain’s enforcer so to say.”  
She nodded quickly and approached him further. Why was it necessary that an enforcer stood in front of the door?  
A slight smile appeared on his lips, as he looked at her from head to toes. Probably the outfit she had chosen wasn’t fit for what they were doing tonight, but it was the most comfortable thing she could think of.  
And her oversized Shirt dress didn’t look too shabby, so she thought at least.  
He pointed his hand at the antique sofa, they had been sitting on the last time.  
“Please, have a seat.” She approached the piece of furniture, but didn’t sit down immediately.

“How have you spent your last day?” LaCroix suddenly wanted to know. Manon flinched.   
“I… I have done everything that needed to be done… you know, I’ve been to a beauty salon, I’ve eaten my favourite food and I… I watched the sunset for a last time…”  
She swallowed hard. This had been really the last time, it just got clear to her.

He obviously sensed her mood darken, as he cleared his throat.  
“Can I offer you anything? Water? Wine?” he asked her, as she sat down, awkwardly crossing her legs. “Wine, please…” she nervously asked, hoping that the alcohol would calm her nerves.  
He nodded and went to one of the tables in the room, where there was a bottle of red wine already waiting. Manon looked around in this decadent room, that looked so old fashioned, that is could be a show case in a baroque museum. She hadn’t asked him, how long he was a vampire already, but she figured that this perhaps was a very impolite thing to ask.   
There were a lot of things she would have to learn, she thought. All about vampires, about their habits and their way of life… What she would have to consume…

“May I ask you something?” Manon chewed her bottom lip, looking at the vampire, who had opened the bottle and was now pouring her a glass of the red liquid. It almost looked like blood, she thought. “How… how did I taste? My blood, I mean…”  
LaCroix chuckled returning to the sofa, handing her the glass. “Let’s just say, you fall into my blood preference.”  
Manon didn't know what that meant, but she was a little too afraid to ask. Instead she decided to take a huge sip from the glass. It was a good wine, probably expensive, but in her state of mind, she couldn’t pay much attention to it all. There were far more pressing matters at hand right now.

„This is a… 2005 Château Pétrus…” he explained “Bordeaux, if you don’t object. I took the liberty of ordering something special for the occasion.”  
“You are a wine connoisseur?” she asked him nervously, looking at the dark liquid in the elegant glass. As she herself didn’t know anything about wine, she was really impressed.  
“Quite.” He answered “Although it had been quite a while since I had been able to taste it in its… pure form.”  
Manon didn’t understand to which he responded with a light chuckle, as he sat down beside her onto the sofa.  
She tensed up, as he was so close again, something about him overwhelming her senses. For some reason, like the first time they had met, she couldn’t take her eyes off him and smelled his expensive cologne, that made her knees weak.  
“When someone drinks wine and a Kindred came to drank their blood, it leaves a taste of it, as the wine is in their system.”  
She almost choked on her drink. So the expensive wine would come back to him eventually.  
“That means – I am the Bordeaux tonight?” she concluded, inhaling sharply. What was she even doing here, sitting on a sofa next to a vampire, a stalker of the night? This was insane! 

The vampire’s mouth curled into a slightly amused smile and he lifted an eyebrow before he lightly pursed his lips and tilted his head. He didn’t contradict to that.

“So… how are we going to do this?” she asked after she had swallowed, her heart beating in her throat, shyly looking onto the floor.  
“Let me explain it to you first.” He began, as her hand clenched around the wine glass.  
“The embrace is the rite, where you will become a Kindred. I will drink all of your blood, and feed you some of mine. That transforms you into one of us.”

Her eyes went open wide.  
“Is this even sanitary?” she spoke before thinking, making him chuckle.  
“Miss Lovett, one of the many advantages of being an immortal is, that you are immune to any sorts of diseases.”  
“Okay…” she just breathed as she took one last sip of wine, before she put the glass away, sitting back and tilting her head. “I… I am ready…”

“Relax…” she heard him whisper next to her neck, his hand tenderly brushing her hair out of the way, he had probably noticed how her heart raced. “I promise to be gentle.”  
His words sent a prickling sensation down her spine, as she realized what she was doing now. There was no turning back. She would become a vampire now. One of them, a kindred, a creature of the night, an undead,…   
It was something she had never thought possible, but here she was, receiving the dark gift.

She felt his lips against her neck, a deadly kiss, his skin, cold as a corpse, but then she felt that sharp pain again, until the pain quickly turned into the highest pleasure she had ever witnessed. Again, she held onto him, her fingers holding onto the lapel of his suit, her legs shaking terribly, as the bliss washed over her mind. Could people actually get addicted to this? She moaned loudly, as he sucked at her neck, making her tremble. It was longer than last time, it felt like her body exploded underneath her skin, this ecstasy should never end.  
She almost didn’t notice how dizzy she felt, as he drank more and more of her blood.  
Slowly her vision began to turn dark at the edges and breathing became harder.  
Her heart tried her best to pump the rest of the blood through her body, but it just wasn’t enough. A terrible pain spread across her chest, still numbed by the sensation caused by his mouth.  
“Mr. LaCroix…” she managed to whisper powerlessly. “I… don’t feel good…”  
Her heartbeat was slow, she didn’t even manage to keep her eyes open, as life slowly left her.  
She noticed how he pulled away, leaving her sit there, afraid, not breathing.  
His face was worried and his mouth bloodstained.  
Manon started to panic as he bit his own wrist, creating a wound that drew blood immediately.  
“Drink this.” He ordered out of breath and pressed his wrist onto her lips.  
As soon as his blood had touched her tongue, she was wide awake again. Greedily she began to suck at his wrist, like a leech, her hands strongly wrapped around his arm.  
It tasted like paradise. Never in her whole life had she ever tasted something this divine, than the blood of this Vampire. A moan escaped her, as she took big sips, blood running down her chin, staining her dress, but she couldn’t care less. All that mattered was, that she drunk as much of this delicious liquid than possible.  
“Enough!” she suddenly heard his sharp voice, as he roughly dug his hand into her hair to yank her away. This seemed to have been exhausting for him too.  
She noticed how he slowly licked over his wound, to close it again, before he turned to her with a worried expression.  
“M…more…” she wailed, falling off the sofa onto the carpet.  
Waves of pleasure, even bigger than the ones she had experienced earlier shook her whole system, making her moan loudly and bite her lower lip until she drew blood.  
“Oh god, wha-“ she could only hiss, embarrassed to make this display in front of him.  
Her eyes met his, and all of the sudden she could only think about how beautiful he was, like an angel walking on earth. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, thank him for giving her this pleasure that blissfully overtook her whole body.  
She began to mewl, not able to control her thoughts and motions anymore.  
Suddenly she enjoyed his eyes on her.  
“What is this?” she yelped, as she felt her hands, digging into her hair, to release some tension, still tossing her head from side to side on the floor.  
“You are experiencing a rebirth…” he explained, his voice very soft but still out of breath. “It is normal…”  
Rebirth.   
LaCroix sat down on the floor next to her and put his hand onto her forehead. The corpse cold sensation felt soothing on her skin, that was already boiling.  
Sloppily she grabbed his hand and pressed it onto her cheek. This felt so good. She couldn’t explain why, but suddenly she wanted his hands all over her.   
This man was responsible for all of this bliss.  
She started to press hot kisses onto his palm, pressing him closer to her face, her eyes closed shut. She inhaled his scent, expensive perfume, exalted cologne and something different she couldn’t put into words. Why did her sense of smelling suddenly become that good?  
He was the only thing on her mind now.  
A last wave shook her body, as she released a low moan from the back of her throat and blacked out.

She didn’t know how long it took for her to regain conscience, but she had been away probably a few minutes, because when she woke up she saw LaCroix and another man kneeling next to her, watching her with worried gazes.  
She blinked a few times, confused, trying to sit up.  
To her surprise she felt better than she ever had in her whole life before.   
Curiously she scrutinized both men.  
LaCroix had taken off the jacket of his suit and loosened his tie a little bit, the sleeves of his clean white shirt rolled up sloppily, as if he had done it in a haste, a streak of his flax blonde hair, falling into his face, which he quickly tried to push back. Around his mouth there were still the stains of her blood and he still seemed exhausted.  
The other man had dark hair and rosy skin and stood in an odd contrast to the vampire. He was wearing a terribly outdated suit, probably from the 1970s and had a gold chain around his neck.

“She is awake!” the other man said in a low voice, exchanging looks with LaCroix.  
Manon groaned as she tried to get up, her limbs still feeling a little numb.  
“How are you feeling?” LaCroix wanted to know.  
“Fine?” she answered, not quite sure about that. Suddenly she experienced a painful rumble in her stomach.  
“I am so hungry…” she whispered, pressing her hands onto her middle.  
LaCroix gave her a serious look.  
“Miss Lovett, I want you to listen to me carefully.” He began looking her deep into the eyes. “I will give you something to drink now. It is important that you try to stay in control. You will experience something deep now, something all Kindred struggle with their whole existence. You will probably frenzy right now, but please, try to stay in control.”  
Manon nodded, not quite understanding what he meant.  
The other man quickly pulled out a blood pack from his jacket.  
As soon as she saw the red liquid in the plastic bag, her whole body felt like it was on fire. She screamed in pain as she arched her back, rolling around on the floor, trying to ease the pain. The beat of her heart was unbearable. Manon tried to get up again, her eyes fixed onto the blood. She wanted to drink it up as quickly as possible, but then there was something different in her head. It was a voice, low but persistent. They would take it away from her. She had to defend herself.

With a terrifying screetch, she readied herself for a fight, even though she had never fought before in her life.  
“Miss Lovett, calm down!” she heard LaCroix’s voice, through the numbness of her brain.  
It wasn’t possible.  
“Concentrate!” his voice grew louder.  
She tried to calm down, to stop her aggressiveness, but the burning in her body was too strong, too painful to ignore and she felt angry, angrier than ever before.  
“You will calm down now.” His voice sounded different, against her will, she felt that her body automatically compiled his order.

She hissed and dropped onto the floor, still burning but unable to move. LaCroix took the blood pack out of the others hand and threw it at her. Manon greedily grabbed it and without thinking dug her teeth into the packaging. She drank it up in one big sip, gulping loudly, as if she had not drank in days.  
It was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted in her whole life.  
She noticed how the other man carefully placed two more next to her, which she devoured quickly after. The pain a little soothed she leaned back, her hair spread on the floor, the two men eying her with worried gazes.

“This is Mercurio, he will take care of you for the next few days.” LaCroix suddenly explained, his voice sharp and professional again.

Manon sighed and closed her eyes, still high of her first draft of blood, but then there was something different… It was pain, like someone was pressing into her chest and she didn’t quite know what to make of it. Her heartbeat was unnaturally loud in her ears and slowly a new panic arose in her.  
She started to cry, salty tears running down her face, as the pain was too much to bear for her.  
“Help… me!” she yelled, sweat building on her skin. She noticed how LaCroix sat down beside her on the floor, putting his hand onto her forehead. Mindlessly she tried to bite him, feeling a massive pain going through her maxillary, as if all of her teeth would get pulled out.  
“Oh!” he made and it sounded like it was coming from far away “Your fangs just came out for the first time.”  
“My… fangs?” she breathed, cutting the edge of her lip on something sharp, which grew out of her skull. She didn’t recognise her hoarse voice anymore as her own. The pain was unbearable and she felt like she was on the edge of passing out.

“Wh- what is happening?” she could only hiss, clenching her shaking hands against her aching chest.  
“You are dying…” LaCroix whispered softly, stroking her wet hair out of her forehead. “Don’t fight it. It will only take longer like this…”   
Manon cried more, her vision suddenly turning red. Her heart hurt, as it was still trying to work, fighting a fight it could never win.   
“Mamam…” Manon whined, as the pain was too much and her heart finally stopped beating.  
Then she blacked out.


	4. Be grateful to your murderer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments :) Here is the next chapter. I know it is kind of short, but the next one is already finished and definetely longer than this :)

Her dreams were feverish and she felt like she was on the brink between life and death. Her body was burning and sweat was emanating from every pore of her body, tainting the bedsheets. First it had been colourless, but soon there were weird reddish stains, where she rested her head.  
Where was she even? She couldn’t tell, whenever she managed to crack her eyes open, she saw a room she didn’t know. Where had they brought her? Manon had never taken any sorts of drugs but she imagined that a cold withdrawal would feel like that.  
Her whole body was in terrible pain and she felt cramps that made her almost lose her mind.  
No one had told her, that the embrace would be this painful.

Then the vomiting started. Someone had placed a bucket next to her bed and she was very grateful for that, as the surges shook her whole body. The stench was making her throw up even more, until she had filled the bucket to the brim.

Manon panicked, when the sudden realisation hit her, LaCroix had killed her back then in his office, he had drained the life out of her, only to gift her a new, cursed and tainted one. He had inflicted his unholy disease upon her and made her into a creature of the night, like himself.

She didn’t know how often she passed out due to exhaustion and had no feeling of how much time passed, as the blinds were shut at all times. Where was she even? She wasn’t in her flat, but she had problems making the room where she lied in out in general. It was much bigger than her former room and she could see two doors in the walls. Manon didn’t know where they were leading her but this thought made her crazy.

Someone changed the buckets, but she hadn’t noticed anyone entering her room. That someone also placed a huge jug of a red liquid onto the nightstand from time to time, which she emptied greedily without knowing what it contained. It looked like blood, but she remembered the taste of blood from before all of this had happened, and it never even tasted as divine as this. She couldn’t explain why she even drank this thing in the first place – but it seemed to satisfy all her needs.

It had probably been days until she was able to grasp a clear thought. She awoke in the middle of the night, but didn’t feel the urge to continue sleeping. Manon decided to get up and tried to stand on her shaking feet. Everything turned in front of her eyes and her headache was better than the day before, but it was still there. Manon pressed her palm onto her forehead, but it felt odd, like she was touching the skin of a dead person. A sudden realisation hit her.

She felt the vein at her wrist. Nothing. No pulse. Then she pressed her hand against her chest and felt the silence of her heart. It was eerie to her and at first she panicked, but after a couple of minutes she managed to calm down. This was it. This was her new life. She was a true and real vampire. She wanted to exhale to release some tension, but as she tried to do so, she realized, that there was no air in her lungs. She had not even inhaled any air in the first place. Manon had simply forgot to breathe.  
“Oh my gosh…” she managed to hiss after sucking in air, like a drowning woman. She shakily staggered towards one of the doors, which turned out to be a walking closet, that contained just empty hooks and a few carton boxes. As she ripped one of them open, she saw her clothes, neatly put together. Someone had been to her flat and brought all of her belongings here. As she had ripped the cardboard open, she had noticed how easily this had been. She hadn’t even broken a nail, and her nails had the tendency to be very soft. As she stared at her hand, which was looking paler than usual, she noticed how her fingernails looked oddly sharp. She tried to bend one with her thumb and was surprised when it turned out to be hard as marble.  
“Wow…” she made, turning her hands. They just oddly assembled her old ones and she noticed that the tiny scar on her ring finger, that she received last year when cutting herself while cooking, the one that never really had healed properly was gone.

Probably the left door would lead out of this room, she figured and her hand was shaking a little as she pressed down the handle and opened it. She stood in a dark hallway with other doors leading to rooms, she hadn’t explored yet. At the end, there was an open door and she could see the glowing light, that was probably coming from a TV or a Computer Screen. Quietly she stalked through the hall, the absence of her heartbeat making the act completely silent, which was still odd and frightful to her. As she reached the other room, she peeked around the corner, seeing a man hunched over a laptop.  
“Hello?” she asked and witnessed how the man turned around in fright, facing her. It was the same man she had seen at her embrace.  
“Jesus!” he shrieked, almost falling off his chair. “I didn’t hear you coming, you scared the living shit outta me!”  
Manon pulled a grimace.  
“I am so sorry!” she told him, approaching him. She noticed that he had used the laptop for some online gambling game. “I… didn’t realize that I was this quiet.”  
He chuckled awkwardly.  
Then he stood up and reached out his hand.  
“I don’t know if you remember me. I am Mercurio!” he introduced himself. Manon shook his hand, the warmth of it almost freaking her out. She also could feel his pulse and for some reason she couldn’t concentrate on anything else.  
“My name is Manon. Nice to meet you!” she finally said, after she dropped his hand.  
“If you are hungry, there is plenty of blood in the fridge.” He informed her, sitting down at the desk again. Manon examined the room. It was a rather spacious living room with modern looking furniture. It also led to an open kitchen with a huge fridge. Why a vampire would need the place to cook was beyond her, but she probably would find out sooner or later. 

As she opened the fridge door, she saw that it contained some food, that probably was Mercurio’s and some bottles, filled with blood. She took one and screwed the lid open. The scent was simply divine and she had to fight the urge to swallow it down in one gulp. Nevertheless she managed to sit down at the sofa, that was next to the table where Mercurio sat and take a tiny sip of her beverage.  
“So… what is this place?” she then asked in confusion.  
Mercurio turned to her again. “That is your new apartment, I totally forgot to tell you. We are downtown and it is just a few minutes away from the Venture Tower.”  
“Oh.” She made. Was this really her new place? In an area like this, her new flat was probably worth a fortune!  
“Speaking of it…” he took out a flip phone and Manon was amused that anybody even owned one of those anymore. “I should call LaCroix and tell him, that you are up.”  
“So you work for LaCroix?” she wanted to know, taking another sip of the blood.  
Mercurio laughed bitterly “Kinda.” He then said “I am one of his ghouls.”  
“Ghoul?” Manon asked in confusion, having heard that word before, but never outside of the context of Horror literature or computer games.  
“Yeah.” He continued “You see, I am human, but they give me Vampire Blood on a monthly basis, which makes me into a ghoul. I am stronger than the average man, can heal faster and can also use some of the vampiric disciplines to a certain degree. Oh, and we do not age or die naturally as long as we drink your blood. But that also means, that a ghoul has to serve the Kindred, who gives him his blood.”  
Her mouth dropped open, but he laughed, while he dialled a number on his phone.  
“Ah, don’t worry, you will get used to all of this!” the man shrugged, holding it onto his ear.

It took a while for LaCroix to answer. Manon had finished her blood and pulled her knees to her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs, trying to suppress her excitement.  
“Yeah, she just woke up.” She heard Mercurio speak into his phone. “Yes, Master, she is fine. You want to talk to her?” He was silent for a moment, letting the other one speak.  
After a while he handed her the phone, which she took with a shaking hand and pressed onto her ear. She heard her blood rushing through her veins.  
“Miss Lovett?” she heard LaCroix’s voice, formally as usual. “Y-yes…” her voice was trembling. “Good evening!” he spoke back “How are you feeling tonight? I trust everything is fine?” “Yes…” she answered “I feel better.”  
“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “Tonight, there will be time for you to settle in your new home, Mercurio will help you with that, I am sure, with unpacking your belongings, if he hasn’t done so already. Tomorrow night, you will be picked up and brought to the Venture Tower, where you will receive further information of how we will procedure.  
“Okay.” She answered nodding her head, although he couldn’t see her.  
“And another thing.” He suddenly added “Might I ask, if you are satisfied with the blood you are given here?” Manon was confused.  
“Yes, it is fine. Why?” she wanted to know. A moment of silence followed.  
“You will find out soon enough.” He then answered. “And even though I wish that you get settled down for the next few days and try to adjust, I took the liberty of leaving you a few books about our society, that you could read if you want to.”  
Manon swallowed hard.  
“Only if you want. I know it is an unusual situation and all of these changes have scared you, but for now, I want you to try to relax. The next nights will be exhausting.”  
“Okay- I will look into them…” she stuttered, biting her lower lip.  
“Fine. Then… see you tomorrow night. A bientot, childe.” LaCroix hung up.

The rest of the night Manon spent with her little notepad and a pen stuck between her teeth, trying to read through the many books he had left for her, as she wanted to be prepared for her first real day… or night – as a Kindred. She wrote down everything she thought was interesting or important and put bookmarks onto pages she wanted to reread later. Mercurio sat silently in front of his laptop, sighing from time to time, when he lost a round of online poker.

“O god…” Manon suddenly yelped, after she had read something that was a little unsettling.  
“What?” the ghoul asked without taking the eyes off his screen.  
“In here it says, that every neonate need to be brought before the prince and be formally introduced into the domain.” She traced the line of text with her finger. “I hate formalities… And what if the prince of this domain rejects me? Will I be driven out of this city? Or worse?”  
Manon looked up from her lecture, having read the basics of the Camarilla hierarchy. Mercurio shook his head, clicking on a deck of cards on his laptop screen. “And a domain usually stretches over a city, right?”  
“Well, this doesn’t concern you out of all vampires, does it?” Came his answer as he shifted his position on the chair.  
“Why wouldn’t it?” she wanted to know, turning the page of the book, looking for the consequences of such a scenario. “If the Prince doesn’t approve of me as a member of this domain, he will probably kick me out or get rid of me…”  
This time Mercurio looked up and blinked a few times at her with a confused expression on his face.  
“Because your sire is the Prince?” He said, making Manon’s eyes widen.  
“You… you didn’t know?” he laughed, brushing his hand through his hair “Yes, LaCroix is Prince of Los Angeles.”  
“O god…” she winced, throwing her head back, that hit the wall behind the sofa with a rather loud bump.  
“Ouch!” she yelped, rubbing the back of her head with her right hand while Mercurio snickered lightly.  
“Easy there!” he said in his raspy voice “Don’t break your neck, or he will break mine for not taking care of you!”


	5. Feed the ego, starve the soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I probably am done until chapter 9, so I figured, that I will spoil you a little today^^ Enjoy the next one :)

Manon waited for the elevator to arrive at the pent house. It was usually very quick, but today it was mere torture. This should be her first day… night at her new work place.

What would she do tonight? Also it was the first time she met her sire after her embrace. What would it be like?  
It hit her, that it just as well could be any boring office job, but she still was optimistic. After all, wasn’t this just what she had applied for?  
When the elevator doors opened she shyly stepped into the modern hallway of the office complex – different to the last time she had been here, tonight, there were many other people around.  
Were they all vampires as well? Did they know that she was one?  
“Oh, you must be the new one!” she turned her head, witnessing a guy with a well sitting suit, probably physically in his early forties flashing a smile at her. “Ed Barber, nice to finally meet you!” The man shook her hand with a slight bow.  
“Thank you, Manon Lovett!” she introduced herself, confused at the man’s behaviour.  
A tiny woman with blond curls was next to shake her hand.  
“Pleasure, Iris Connery!” Manon smiled at her as well, seeing how multiple other people approached her, introduced themselves and shook her hand as well.  
She noticed that some hands felt warm, while others were ice cold, like the hand of her sire. So, there were probably many ghouls working here as well.  
Instantly she felt welcome here and the nervousness she had carried around with her for the last few days slowly vanished.  
They were indeed vampires and ghouls, but probably this whole undead club was like a big family.

Finally she had greeted almost every single person at this office, before she took quick steps towards the help desk that had been abandoned the other nights, only to find one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen there.  
Everything about her was sensual, her soft curved lips, that were painted in a brownish shade of red, her big, deep green eyes that were framed by lashes as long as legs of spiders, her skin that looked like porcelain and was adorned by the flaming red hair, that didn’t quite reach her shoulders, but was in an elegant and wavy 1950s hairdo, reminding her of the glamour of the old Hollywood.  
When she heard her steps she looked up with a broad smile.  
“Oh, you must be Manon!” she stated with a melodic voice and she couldn’t have imagined a voice that would suit her better. “Carla Hunt, nice to meet you!”  
She got up and reached out her perfectly manicured hand for Manon to take it. Her fingers felt like ice, suggesting that she was as well Kindred. Carla Hunt, Carla Hunt… her name rang a bell, but Manon couldn’t remember where she had heard it before.

“Yes, I am, nice to meet you!” she stuttered, as she let go of her hand.  
“Follow me, the Prince is already expecting you.” Carla grinned, rounding the desk and leading her down the hallway towards LaCroix’s office.  
Now she saw that she wore an elegant dark green wrap dress that reached her knees with black varnish pumps, that had a bright red sole.  
“Are those Louboutins?” Manon asked before thinking, which made her turn her head and let her ginger curls bob.  
“Hmm?” she hummed “Oh yes, the model from this season…”  
“They are beautiful…” Manon muttered, a little cowed by this perfect looking woman.  
“Thanks, I love them too!” she crooned “It’s nice to have someone around that appreciates fashion!” She winked, cute dimples appearing on her cheek as she smiled again.  
Manon watched the redhead, as her high heels clacked over the stone floor in a hasty pace, her walk controlled and her hips moving with every step.  
She was amazed how much this woman reminded her of a panther or another feline predator in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Unconsciously she compared herself to her.  
She didn’t possess any of the grace and elegance this kindred had.  
“How was the embrace?” Miss Hunt suddenly asked, turning her head with an encouraging grin, as she held the door, that lead to LaCroix’s staircase open for her.  
Manon didn’t know how to answer.  
“Not all that pleasant to be honest…” she finally said, making the other one chuckle.  
“Oh yes, I know.” She shuddered “At least it’s over now, right?”  
Manon felt a little intimidated by Miss Hunt, even if she seemed so different than LaCroix.  
“Are you a Ventrue too?” she finally found the guts to ask.  
Hunt laughed and shook her head.  
“Oh, no! I am a Toreador!” she explained, while they ascended the marble staircase leading to his office. Manon tried to remember where she had read this name before. It was for sure another Camarilla Clan, but to be honest, she didn’t really have the nerves to go through all the scriptures and books LaCroix had left her at her apartment.  
“Oh.” She just made, trying to hide her cluelessness.  
Hunt brushed a strand of her fire red hair behind her ear. “We are the clan of the rose.” She mused, formally knocking against the door three times “The artists, the entrepreneurs, the social butterflies. We keep you Ventrues from getting moody.” She winked at the other one, opening the door for her.  
“See you soon!” she hummed holding the mahagony portal open through which Manon entered LaCroix’s office.

She saw him standing at the window, his back turned to her and his arms crossed.  
When the door closed behind her, the prince turned around and saw her.  
“Good night!” he greeted her, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly upwards. She dared to come closer.  
“Good night,… Prince…” she muttered shyly, trying to make a good impression, but feeling like she already had failed. Was it necessary to bow? Shit, she should have asked Miss Hunt, but in her excitement she had forgotten to do so.  
LaCroix rounded his desk and seemed to scrutinize her. She had noticed the slight changes in her appearance herself. Now she was much paler than usual, her cheeks seemed to have fallen in a little bit, but just to the extent, that they now drew a much welcomed emphasis to her cheekbones, that she always longed for as a mortal, and she had noticed a certain glow, that was completely new to her.

“I trust you are feeling better?” he then asked politely. Manon nodded.  
“Finally… thank you.” She answered, still a little tired.  
“How… did it go? I hope it wasn’t too painful…” he carefully added, making her shiver.  
“It was… horrible… stomach pain, cramps,…the last few days I spent throwing up…” she explained, looking at her feet. “I almost thought I was pregnant.”  
She couldn’t smile at her joke, looking at him. LaCroix lifted his eyebrows. “Don’t worry, I assure you I cannot do that.” He told her, after clearing his throat.  
“You must know Vampires are infertile. We are unable to create life in the biological sense. The only way for us to reproduce is by embracing a human. Like I did to you.”  
“Oh.” Manon whispered. “So… that makes you my… father?”  
“No!” he exclaimed a bit too hasty for her taste “I mean, no… that makes me your sire. And that is something completely different.”  
She chuckled awkwardly, glancing towards the floor, but she soon heard him tut at her.  
“When speaking to an older Ventrue, never break eye contact.” He told her with a firm voice. “This is considered very impolite!”  
“Oh!” Manon quickly looked up. “Sorry, Sir…”

“Speaking of it, have you met the others already?” he asked her.  
“Yes, they are very nice.” Manon told him “I’ve never experienced such a friendly welcome. Everybody seemed to be eager to meet me.”  
Humoured he crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
“Of course they are. You are the childe of this Domain’s leader. They would be fools not to be.”  
“Oh.” She made again, her bright image of the ‘vampire family’ crumbling down. Basically they had just been lying.  
“Remember, you always have to pay attention who you trust.” He shook his head. “That’s a common mistake. Take this as your first lesson.”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded enthusiastically and tried to overplay her embarrassment with a genuine smile towards the prince.  
“Very well.” He added and took a step towards his desk, where she now noticed a flat and rather huge parcel.  
“That is for you.” He gestured at the box “See it as your… ‘welcome to the family’ present.”  
“Family?” she mouthed amusedly, before she narrowed her eyes and took the lid of the parcel.  
Inside there was a brand new laptop, that looked pretty expensive, a new smart phone, some memory cards, an external hard drive and a USB stick, along with a big white envelope.  
Her mouth dropped open, as she excitedly eyed the electronic devices.  
“Oh my gosh…” she breathed, taking the phone and switching it on “Oh my gosh…”  
She felt how he watched her, as she examined the notebook next.  
“It has got all sorts of programs preinstalled.” LaCroix explained to her.  
“I have to admit, that I am not as educated as you with informatics, but the responsible employee of our own IT department told me, that it was up to date.”  
“Oh my gosh…” she said a third time and turned her head to look at him again “Thank you…”  
“You are welcome!” he shrugged “And if you look inside of the envelope, it contains your new phone number and your new business password for our own company network, your new passport, your new driving licence, your new debit and credit card with your code and your new insurance number.”

Manon opened the envelope with shaking hands, going through her new identity. The name was still the same, but the rest of her data was wrong. It was all fake – for the sake of the Masquerade and the secrecy. In some way she felt like a secret agent.

“However, seeing that you have adjusted fine, I think we can start now?” LaCroix started out politely.  
“Of course, where can I set up?” she added a little shy, excited to try out her new devices.  
He raised one eyebrow and suddenly had a faint grin on his face.  
“Before you set up, we have a lot of work to do.” He nodded at her, making her look down on herself.  
“Did you think no one would notice that you wore the exact same dress, you already wore when you had the first interview here? I assume you don’t exactly own a business appropriate wardrobe?”

Her mouth fell open at his blunt words. Shyly she looked to the floor, embarrassed. Of course he had noticed.  
She heard him chuckle “But do not fret, that is nothing we can’t change. Of course, I cannot have my protégé looking… plebeian, can I? So that is why I have arranged an appointment at a certain… noble department store. My secretary, Miss Hunt will be accompanying us, if you do not mind. I always find it important to get a second opinion in such things.”  
Manon didn’t quite understand.  
“You mean, we… go buy new clothes?” she figured, making him nod.  
“But I don’t have…” she lowered her voice, slightly ashamed. “I cannot afford a new wardrobe at the moment…”  
He scoffed amusedly, making her look up again.  
“Oh, my poor Cinderella.” He jested, tilting his head a little and eying her with a half-smile “Let me worry about that.”

The last two hours had been hell for Manon. True, she liked shopping like every other girl, but with these two vampires, she had soon realized that with the choice of her wardrobe she basically had no right to be heard at all.  
She hadn’t even had the chance to look at all the products they had, because she had, as soon as Miss Hunt had picked the first few dresses for her, been shoved into a changing cabin, where she had been urged to try on different items of clothes, only coming out to present her outfit to the others.

At this late hour, they were the only ones at the department store. He had probably bribed the store owner, because two snobbish looking sales assistants were rushing about, trying to fulfil all of their wishes. Manon couldn’t remember if she ever had been to an establishment this noble. Everything was posh in here and she felt alien in between all of this luxury.

She muttered something under her breath as she slipped into a black pencil skirt, and tucked the hems of the white blouse, Miss Hunt had basically forced upon her, into its waistline, before she shoved the curtain to the side and took a step outside.  
“Mr. LaCroix, what do you think about this blouse?” Miss Hunt asked the prince, who in return scrutinized Manon in the white piece of clothing.  
“Yes.” He simply stated his approval, his eyes returning to the black blazer, he held in his hands. “The skirt as well…”  
Manon felt intimidated by the two older Vampires who seemed to dress her up like a doll.  
The way they looked at her, how they judged every little detail of her appearance, made her uncomfortable in more than one way.  
A little embarrassed she returned into the changing room, stripping off the blouse. As she threw a look at the price tag, she almost fainted. This piece of cloth costed more than she used to make in a month. How should she pay for all this new stuff, they insisted on?  
The woman had given up of calculating what she would pay at the end of their weird shopping spree, but she was sure another person could afford a small house for that money.  
With a silent wince, she slipped into another one of the black pencil skirts, Miss Hunt had chosen before.  
“The blouse!” she heard the voice of the woman and saw a hand slip through the curtain of the cabin. “Please.”  
Manon handed her the blouse she had tried on before, as they were going to take it.  
She also had noticed that their choice of clothing was rather… monochrome to say the least.  
With a few exceptions, namely some white blouses and an anthracite trench coat, the clothes that she had tried on had been exclusively black. Not that she had anything against it, she herself loved black, but in her current state of being undead, she feared that this dark colour scheme would let her look even more like a living corpse.  
She spied through the curtain and saw LaCroix browsing through a rack of dresses, noticing that he as well was dressed in a black suit, with a white shirt and a dark grey tie.  
Maybe he just liked black?

“What about this handbag?” Miss Hunt asked, interrupting her thoughts, holding up a black varnish bag by Moschino.  
“It looks amazing, but I cannot afford any of this…” Manon replied a little embarrassed, holding her arms in front of her chest, as she stuck her head out of the dressing room.  
“Oh, honey, don’t bother!” the redhead laughed “The prince made it clear, that he will pay for everything!”  
“What?” she gasped “He can’t do this!”  
She heard a familiar chuckle.  
“Of course I can. See it as some sort of… investment. I can’t have my fledgling run around like a peasant.”  
Peasant? Her old clothes were just fine. Sure, they didn’t look like she had escaped a Chanel fashion show, and quite a few items she had bought second hand, but all together it wasn’t too shabby. Her friends had even described her style as preppy once, which was almost what she was going for.

Noticing that she hadn’t been trying on new clothes for almost half a minute, Miss Hunt handed Manon a black cocktail dress through the curtains.  
She didn’t need to say anything anymore, Manon did as she was ordered, and slipped on the elegant dress, that was tight and reached her knees.  
She wanted to look at herself in the mirror, but soon, she saw Miss Hunt’s head being stuck through the curtains.  
“Wow!” she crooned, clicking her tongue “Suits you really well!”  
Before Manon could protest, she opened up the curtains wide, so the prince could take a look at the dress as well.  
Manon wasn’t sure, but she could have sworn that his eyes had softened for a moment, before they returned to their usual disinterested gaze, as he examined her new outfit.  
“Yes.” He said, this time ignoring the piece of clothing that he held in his hands.  
“But, Sir, do you know what this outfit is missing?” Miss Hunt took Manon by the hand and led her out of the changing room and spun her around in front of the prince.  
“What is this outfit missing, Miss Hunt?” he then asked amused, arching his brow.  
The redhead snickered before wiggling her eyebrows.  
“Louboutin Pumps!”

Manon exhaustedly fell onto her sofa after she had dropped the sheer mass of exquisite paper shopping bags onto the floor.  
She didn’t want to know how much money he had spent today.  
The bag contained clothes – mostly black, jewellery, shoes, make up and other stuff she never thought she would ever own.  
Delicate blouses, good fitting dresses and skirts, beautiful underwear and tights (which Miss Hunt had urged her to buy and she didn’t have to present to the other vampires to her relief), cute handbags for any occasion, lipsticks in almost every shade of red, hats, scarves, sunglasses, rings, necklaces, a wristwatch, pumps, boots, coats, fur overthrows (even though she had at first protested), ear rings, nail polish – all from expensive brands like Chanel, Dolce and Gabbana, Moschino, Oscar de La Renta, Vivienne Westwood and Alexander McQueen.  
Everything was classy, elegant and lofty – she didn’t recognize herself anymore.

She had dared to glance at the prince, when they were finished, as he had handed the salesperson a shiny card. He had seemed to be in his element, obviously enjoying the special treatment by the human and of course spending so much money on luxurious products.  
It had made her feel even smaller, to be honest.

Her new phone buzzed. She picked it up and looked at the text message from an unknown number.

>   
>  Hello Manon, it’s Carla here!  
>  Tonight was fun!  
> 

Fun was not the primary thing she would have associated with their insane shopping spree, but nevertheless she had to smile, as she typed her answer.

>   
>  Hello Carla!  
>  I enjoyed it too!  
> 

It only took a few seconds Carla to answer.

>   
>  We should go shopping again soon!  
>  How are your new pumps?  
>  It’s lovely not to be the only one at the office with Louboutins   
> 

Manon had to smile, but the whole thing had a bitter taste. She remembered what LaCroix had said to her before, that she should be cautious who to trust. Maybe Carla also just wanted to use her to be on the prince’s good side? The thought made her sad, but for the sake of being polite, she decided to play along. Did she have any choice after all?

>   
>  Absolutely!  
> 

Manon yawned and put on her pyjamas. When she was brushing her teeth, she noticed Carla’s next message.

>   
>  Hit me up whenever you like!  
>  You are probably exhausted, poor thing!  
>  When you are a fledgling the first few nights you just drop dead  
>  After a long day! Pleasant sleep!”  
> 

Manon smiled, because she was tempted to answer something like “Good night” but now that she was a vampire, she should probably say “Good morning?”.  
Nah, she decided to just repeat what Carla had said and wished her a pleasant sleep as well, which seemed like the safest bet.

After she had braided her long hair she slipped under the covers. Today had been crazy! They had spent so much money, it had been obscene!  
Just as she closed her eyes, her phone buzzed again.  
It took her a moment to respond, but soon she sat up again and looked at the screen.  
Another text message had arrived, but this time, it had been from no other than LaCroix.

>   
>  I will pick you up tomorrow night at 11.  
>  It is time for your next lesson.  
> 


	6. Megalomaniacal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hope you are having a great weekend so far! <3 This chapter has a "soundtrack" or something... at least I was listening to this song while writing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwhOTNQcQq4

Manon still couldn’t believe it, but there she was, entering the famous Club Confession through the VIP entry, her sire right behind her.  
Club Confessions! This was the new thing downtown. Normally a club goer would wait at least two to three hours outside the old church, where the club had opened its doors quite a while ago, and even if you made it inside, the drinks were so expensive, that you would probably have to share one with a friend, to be able to afford it.  
She could feel LaCroix’s hand at the small of her back, as he lead her through the crowd of dancing people to the bar, where he leaned against the polished wood.

Manon looked around in the club, feeling truly relaxed for the first time in days. She slightly moved her hips to the music, hoping that dancing wasn't beyond a Ventrue.  
Of all the things her imagination could ever spew out, Prince Sebastian LaCroix at a crowded club in Downtown LA wasn't one of them

When she looked back at LaCroix, she noticed his gaze on her. "I lost my soul to bloodlines!" the music flowed out of the speaker as she shyly looked down, stopping her light dancing immediately.

A new song started and the low beats of the amazingly good sound system vibrated through her body, replacing her absent heartbeat with its rhythm, as she recognized it.  
Manon always had loved to dance, but here with her boss and sire it would just feel odd and inappropriate. Could she ever again dance at a club, or was it just a safe way to lose dignitas? This was a concept of Clan Ventrue she had learned pretty fast. One must never lose face.  
She threw a cautious side glance at her sire, who was still standing at the bar next to her. 

To her amusement he just stood there nodded his head slightly to the beat of the music, but in a very bored manner, watching over the crowd as if he was looking for someone. Probably electronic just wasn't his thing.   
“In the age of super-boredom- Hype and mediocrity…” Manon absently mouthed the words along with the song, her hips again swaying softly to the music.

“The next lesson I teach you, is how to feed.” He suddenly turned to her again and spoke, despite of the loud music, she heard him clearly. Startled, she almost jumped immediately stopping to dance again.  
LaCroix lifted an eyebrow at her.  
“It is not forbidden to dance, just to inform you, especially not at an establishment like this.” He told her, shaking his head with a suppressed grin on his lips, as she brushed her hair behind her ear nervously.  
“As you know, each Ventrue has… a specific preference when it comes to blood.” The Prince continued, as she looked up again “It could be anything. Female virgins, british men, blond women from 40 to 50… just try out different things, you will know when you’ve found yours.”   
She nodded slightly, a question still burning in her mind.  
“May I ask what your blood preference is?”  
She hoped she didn’t cross a line here, as she imagined this to be a very intimate question.   
LaCroix took a deep breath. “Listen, I am going to tell you this once and you need to understand that you, under no circumstances reveal your preference or mine to any other vampire, especially not of the other clans. This is something very personal for a Ventrue and normally, to ask someone what their preference is, is downright rude and invading into their personal space.”  
“I’m sorry, I…” she began, a little embarrassed, but he just briefly nodded, before interrupting her.  
“I am your sire and I figure I have to tell you that, in order to teach you. Please, never be afraid to ask me something. I prefer… successful people.” He then stated “Anyone who has a sense for business and money. Lawyers, stock brokers, successful artists, people who can make a business work. You… you were exactly my type of blood.”  
“That is specific.” She stated. “What do you suggest I try out?”  
He shrugged his shoulders. “Anything can be fine. It should probably take a few weeks for you. The blood you had been feeding on since your embrace was my preference. I wanted to see how you take it in.”

“It wasn’t bad.” She commented, trying to think about the taste of the blood she had consumed in the last couple of days. “Maybe it is my preference as well?”  
LaCroix chuckled.  
“My dear fledgling.” He started out “If you had come across your blood preference you definitely would know it, I assure you. When you find your favoured vitae it is… incredible, like a rush and you will never be able to drink anything else. Anything else will taste like the worst poison and you will vomit from it.”

“Vomit?” she repeated unbelievingly, to which he nodded.  
“This is our clan’s curse.” The blond explained “We are… well, picky eaters.”  
Picky eaters… the thought that she would only be able to consume one certain type of blood was odd to her.

 

“Do you see this woman?” he nodded at an elegantly dressed blonde, probably in her late thirties, who sipped a martini near the bar. The Ventrue lifted an eyebrow, not knowing what he wanted to do. “Look at the way she dresses. Business attire, expensive shoes, but a handbag, big enough to carry files. This is her second glass of Martini and due to the time of the night, I assume she just got off work. Also the drinks here are more expensive than other places. What do you think I can conclude out of that?” Manon frowned, understanding. “That she probably is a successful business woman?”  
“Excellent. Although when you already found your preference, you will be able to know if someone’s blood is suitable for your taste. You will be able to tell just by looking at them. This works even for blood when it is… outside of the body.” He explained to her. “When we hunt, a Ventrue doesn’t linger in parks… we seduce our victims to give us what we need.”  
He turned around, so his back was facing the woman.  
“I want you to sit down at the bar next to her and order something that you pretend to drink. Wait for me there… and just watch.”  
Manon was confused but obeyed. Slowly she walked over and sat down next to the woman, LaCroix had mentioned.  
“What can I do for you?” a bartender asked her. “One gin tonic please.” She ordered.  
Normally she wouldn’t drink such a thing, but now, she could at least pretend to do so.  
The woman next to her looked up briefly, but then faced her phone again, the martini glass in front of her half empty already.  
Manon waited for something to happen, when suddenly the bar tender put another drink in front of the lady. “That guy over there says hello!” he told her, pointing at the other end of the bar, where LaCroix sat, the fakest smile on his lips. He winked at the woman, who, to Manon’s surprise waved back. She witnessed how her sire got up and almost strutted through the crowd towards the lady. Manon knew, she needed to stay under cover and was supposed to learn something here, but she just couldn’t take her eyes off him, his handsome face completely distracting her.   
Meanwhile she noticed how the woman straightened up and swept her hair over the shoulder to look as presentable as possible.  
“Good evening!” he greeted her politely and took her hand, she gave him.  
“Thank you for the drink!” she smiled very sweetly, obviously attracted to him. Who wouldn’t?  
“Sebastian!” he introduced himself, looking her deep into the eyes. “Jessica!” the other one replied, shifting her position a bit so she was fully turned to him.  
Manon couldn’t just sit still there. This whole thing felt so wrong. He was going to feed off that woman who had no idea about it.

“Pleasure!” LaCroix replied, a lovely smirk on his lips, which she could tell, was all an act as well.  
“What is such a beautiful lady doing here all alone?” he asked after he had let go of her hand.  
“Oh, I just came off work.” She smiled, her fingers wrapping around the martini glass in front of her.  
“Stock market?” he asked with pretended interest.  
“Close. No, I am a lawyer in the economy sector… there was much to do today, I was working into the night… And now I’m here.”

“18 dollars!” the bar tender, who had put a glass in front of Manon onto the surface of the bar, startled the young woman. She quickly pulled her purse out of her handbag and handed him a 20$ bill.  
“Keep the change…” she squealed at the man, who nodded in return and took the money out of her hand.  
Shit, stupid mortal… she immediately glanced back at her sire, hoping that she hadn’t missed anything.  
Awkwardly she turned the cold glass in her hands, witnessing how the woman had started to curl a strand of hair around her finger.  
Manon hadn’t missed anything. In fact, this farce continued for another couple of minutes, where her sire did her best to flirt with the woman, who in return flirted back, even if a little awkwardly. It was refreshing that she wasn’t the only one to react to the prince in such a way.

Manon couldn’t stand this. She asked herself why she felt that way, but then she considered the eventuality that the feeling that she was experiencing was in fact jealousy. But why?  
Who was she to get jealous now? He was her sire, he probably had a private life as well and this was highly inappropriate! She didn’t even like him! Not like that.  
It must be the blood bond. She had read that a fledgling usually had strong feelings towards their sire up to a few months after her embrace and so it was only natural that she felt this cruel burning inside her stomach. Or was it?  
“You’ve got very interesting eyes, has anybody told you that before?” Jessica laughed.  
“You as well!” LaCroix answered “Let me have a closer look.”

Suddenly Manon noticed how Jessica’s body got stiff all of the sudden. She saw, how her sire opened his mouth a bit, the woman practically falling into his embrace and his lips at her neck.  
She moaned slightly, as he drank of her for a few moments, she noticed how he took about four or five big sips, until he pulled back again, Jessica still in trance, with a blissful expression on her face. LaCroix slightly threw his head back as well, inhaling in short hisses, his eyes pressed shut, teeth clenched, as if he felt either great pain or great pleasure.  
She knew how it felt to taste blood, how it was the most ecstatic feeling on earth, but the look on his face was truly fascinating. It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen him feed before, but now that she had, she had the feeling she always wanted to be present when he did. To see his pale, handsome face in this moment of true rapture, made her wonder if he looked like this in certain other situations. That thought made her almost swoon, as an image sneaked its way into her conscience. Her legs started to tremble, before she quickly banished the image out of her mind. She noticed that he slowly opened his eyes and looked at her.  
“This will last a few minutes.” He informed Manon, who tried to look as innocent as possible.  
“Come on!”  
He led her away from the bar, to a door that lead to a small hallway.  
“Did you see what I did here?” he asked her.  
“You gained her trust and then…Did you use dominate?”  
He shook his head. “I didn’t.”  
“How did you…?” she began, to which he responded with a laugh. “It is possible to use dominate on a victim, yes.” He explained “However this is not always necessary.”

“But wouldn’t it be just quicker to dominate kine into getting bitten?” she wanted to know.  
LaCroix chuckled amusedly.  
“It would, but firstly, using disciplines requires blood to spend for this act and secondly… the kiss is something deeply intimate, for both Kindred and Kine, and it is sometimes nice to… play with one’s food before actually feeding from them. You will learn this soon enough.”  
Manon almost shivered, remembering the two times he had actually drank from her. It had been the most intimate and erotic thing she had ever experienced in her whole life and she remembered that she had read, that in the ancient city of Carthage kine had happily submitted to it and even got addicted to the kiss.

“There are things you need to pay attention to.” LaCroix lowered his voice “Never kill your donor, it strengthens the beast. For every person you kill, it takes something away from you that you will never get back. You will feel when it is enough. And when you are finished, lick over the wound. Your saliva will close it.”

“How long does it take for a Ventrue to find her blood preference?” she asked, shaking herself free of the memory.  
“Not long.” He waved his hand “Usually a few weeks, maybe you even find it today… look, I think you imagine this far too complicated…”  
She shuddered, as he turned her around, his hands on her shoulders and she could feel his breath close to her ear, so close that her knees started to shake.  
“Look at all those mortals in here.” He whispered into her ear. She sharply inhaled. “Now close your eyes and trust your instincts. Try to feel…”  
Her eyes fluttered shut and she tried to concentrate on… whatever she had to, but it was hard, when he was so close to her.   
“Let your blood be drawn to someone… think about what you want.” He continued to purr, and as Manon was almost ready to give it up – she felt something that made her open up her eyes. She felt a strong pull, that wasn’t physical. Suddenly she had to look into a certain direction and without her doing her feet started to move. She didn’t know where she was heading, but in that moment she didn’t care. Manon could feel how his hands let go of her and she took some determined steps towards a niche of the club, where people were sitting and talking.  
They were all human, she could hear their heartbeats and she wondered where her instincts had led her, until she suddenly saw him.  
He was tall, probably in his late thirties and had a handsome face with adorable dimples on his cheeks. In front of his eyes was a pair of thick rimmed glasses and his auburn hair was already grey at the sides.  
Their eyes met and he stopped talking midsentence, as he noticed that she had been approaching him.  
It was too late when Manon realized what she had done and that the other people at the table had already followed the eyes of their friend. Now everyone there was staring at her, which was the least thing that she would needed now.  
But Manon managed to react quick enough, her lips spreading into an apologetic smile.  
“Oh, sorry, I must have mistaken you for an old friend of mine.” She told the man and quickly turned on her heel to hasten back to her sire, who just looked at her in irritation.

“What are you doing, go back and talk to him!” he hissed at her, making her flinch.  
“I can’t!” she explained, biting her lower lip.  
“What do you mean, you can’t!” he urged her, putting his hands onto his hips in an angry manner.  
“I am too shy…” she confessed, looking at the floor.  
“Too shy… Miss Lovett!” he brushed his hand over his exalted face “You do not need to ask him for his hand in marriage, you just need to talk to him and drink his blood!”  
“I know, I know!” she tried to argue nervously “But this is probably really rude and-“  
LaCroix straightened up as Manon felt someone touching her shoulder.  
As she turned around she noticed in utter shock, how the man from earlier had approached her and was now awkwardly smiling at Manon.  
“I am sorry, but I couldn’t help but to notice you earlier.” He told her, his voice was a friendly baritone. Then his gaze met Sebastian’s.  
“S-sorry!” he suddenly stuttered, letting go of her shoulder “I didn’t realize you were here with your date!”  
“She is not my date, don’t worry!” LaCroix quickly answered friendly, and took a step back “I’ll leave you two to it then.” With these words he turned around and made his way through the crowd.  
“Don’t go!” Manon wanted to say, as he looked back once and met her panicked gaze, to which he responded with a far too stern look, but then she heard the man’s blood sing beneath his skin and suddenly all of her nervousness was washed away.  
He smelled so incredibly divine, that she had a hard time to concentrate.  
“Hi!” he suddenly said “I am Randall!”  
“Manon!” she introduced herself and all her shyness was gone, instead being replaced by an almost feline like confidence, that at once came so natural to her.  
As she took his hand to shake it, she felt how hot it was in comparison to hers.  
“Nice to meet you!” he babbled on and she noticed how he couldn’t take his eyes off her.  
“Care for a drink?”

Within twenty minutes she had found out a lot about Randall. He was 38 years old, divorced, worked at a successful gallery in Santa Monica and was originally from the Pacific North West, where he had studied sculpturing in Portland. Sculpturing… like her mother.  
He was a nice man, and the way he clumsily tipped over his overpriced cocktail was incredibly adorable. But she supposed it didn’t matter, when she dragged him by the lapel of his suit jacket into the empty corridor that lead to the boiler room of the club.  
“You are gorgeous!” he just commented, as she pushed him against the wall. His smell was intriguing and she was so thirsty, as she couldn’t wait to finally taste him.  
Softly her hand came up to push his head to the side.  
Shit, why was this guy so big? Manon stood up onto her tiptoes and still, she was barely able to reach his neck.  
“For Fuck’s sake, Randall!” She hissed, but he probably took her swearing for arousal.  
“Baby, you can do to me whatever you like!” he groaned, burying his hand in her hair. Still his neck was too far away for her. She muttered in frustration until she had an idea.  
“Catch me.” She purred and jumped upwards and he caught her mid-air, so that she could wrap her legs around his waist.  
Then everything happened incredibly fast. She could feel her fangs growing out of her skull and almost instantly driving themselves into his neck. Out of an instinct she started to suck at his wound and experienced the biggest bliss she had ever known.  
That was it.  
That was what he had meant, when he had said, that she would know it, when she found it.  
He tasted like the sweetest drug, like nectar and ambrosia. If there was a god, this was what his food had to taste.  
Manon moaned and took a big gulp of this delicious liquid, this vitae that was filling every pore of her existence now, until she felt, how Randall’s heartbeat went quicker.  
She had to force herself, but she eventually managed to pull away, the man’s body limply sliding down the wall behind him with a blissful expression on his face.  
Manon leaned forward to lick over the two bite-marks she had left on his skin, witnessing how they instantly closed before her eyes. The man was out of conscience and she decided to leave him there, as he seemed alive and well.  
It took her a moment to realize, what just had happened.  
She looked down at the man. “Thank you, Randall…” she then muttered “…for being my first.”

When she returned to the dance floor, she passed a mirror and took a moment to check her appearance. Not a single drop spilled, she registered proudly, noticing that her pupils were blown wide.  
This was it.   
This man had drawn her to him and in reminiscence she now knew her type, she now knew what could still her immortal appetite.

As she set foot onto the dance floor again, she was expected by LaCroix who looked at her in anticipation.  
“Artists…” she replied breathlessly “I like artists.”  
He gifted her the first genuine smile she had ever seen him sport, and bit his lower lip in delight.  
“Well done, fledgling! Only a few manage it on their first night. I am very proud of you!”  
He was – what?  
Had she heard correctly? Her sire was proud?  
A happy grin spread across her face and a warm feeling spread through her body as she was still high of the blood, of her blood, that she had drunken on her own.  
What could ever destroy this moment for her right now?

“Manon?” The Ventrue froze, as she heard a voice behind her back, that was far too familiar.  
In utter horror, she turned around.  
“Gemma!” Manon yelped in shock as she stared into the happy face of the other woman.  
Gemma twirled and pulled Manon into a tight hug.  
“You never told me you came her!” the brunette laughed, “It’s nice here, isn’t it?”  
“Gemma, what are you even doing here?” Manon just hissed, but she had to admit that it was good to see her best friend again, even if the circumstances could have been better.  
“Oh, I tried to reach you, but your phone is dead! Do you have a new number? I wanted to tell you that we celebrate today!” she explained, pointing at a table on the other side of the room, where she could make out a couple of her other friends. “I got the job! I’ll be starting in two weeks! Isn’t that exciting!”  
“Oh my god, Gemma!” Manon laughed, hugging her friend again “I am so happy for you!”  
Suddenly she felt Gemma shiver.  
“Gosh, you are so cold, Manon!” the woman noticed, making Manon’s breath hitch in her throat “It’s the air conditioning here, I guess!”

Finally Gemma noticed the Prince, who had taken his position behind her now.  
“So that’s what it is about!” She grinned knowingly, then looking at the Prince.  
“Is this who I think it is?” the brunette leaned forward to whisper into Manon’s ear, but before the woman could react, Gemma reached out her hand for the prince to shake it.  
“Hello! I’m Gemma!” she greeted him, who to her horror took her hand.  
“Sebastian…” he introduced himself, his voice sounding slightly confused at the situation.  
“Oh, _Sebastian_!” she laughed, giving her friend a far too obvious wink “Nice to meet you!” she said with a smirk “Manon didn’t tell me that she had a boyfriend!”  
If Manon had been still alive, she would have blushed like a ripe tomato right now.  
This was more than embarrassing.  
She didn’t know if Gemma tried to play wing woman here, but it made the situation even worse.  
“O gosh…” Manon moaned, swamped with the whole scenario.  
This was a catastrophe! She didn’t even know how to react now.  
Suddenly she felt how LaCroix shoved her gently to the side and as soon as he stood in front of Gemma, Manon noticed how her eyes turned dull and blank as she was now fully under his control. What was he doing?  
“You haven’t seen us here” He spoke to her. “If you see her ever again, you will not recognize her any longer. And you will never contact her again.”  
“Wait!” Manon tried to interfere but it was too late.  
“Yes, I will…” Gemma answered her voice monotone, not even looking at Manon anymore “I’ll better be going,… sorry for bothering you…”  
“Gemma?” she called the woman, who didn’t react to her voice anymore. “No…”  
Her friend briefly shook her head and turned on her heel to quickly leave.  
“What have you done?” she turned to LaCroix again, who just glared at her, his arms crossed in front of his chest.  
“Let’s go!” LaCroix commanded in his sharp tone, almost shoving her through the club until they were out on the dark street.  
“What have you done to her?” Manon asked again, this time a little louder, making a passer-by look at them.  
“I am not going to argue with you out in the open!” he snapped at her aggressively, making her shut up.  
His limousine was still parking around the corner and as they approached it, the lights flashed.  
He held the door open for her, practically pushing her in, following short after.  
“Miss Lovett’s apartment!” LaCroix barked at the driver, who started the engine.  
“Why have you done this?” Manon whispered defeated after a long phase of silence between the two vampires. “This was unnecessary! We could have just-“  
“Just what? Invite her into the Venture tower to a nice cup of tea? You don’t understand?” he spat “Have you thought this through? With keeping your little friendships you could endanger our entire society!”  
She exhaled loudly.  
“Trust me, it’s better this way!” he explained patronizingly.  
Manon scoffed.  
“She is my best friend…” she sighed sadly, still not fully grasping what had just happened “We’ve been to University together… she asked me to be her maid of honour for her wedding…”  
“So?” he shouted at her so sudden, that she had to flinch “We all had to make sacrifices! You are not the only one who left a life behind, so you best get over it. You knew what you were in for!”  
Offended she gasped for air, but decided to remain silent, pressing her tongue hard against her palette to stop herself from crying. First the thing with Gemma and now he yelled at her like that. It had been long since anyone had yelled at her and she felt that she was still in shock.

There was something different behind the gentle mask he put on the first night they had met. She had had a peak behind it and now that he had revealed his true face to her, she was more frightened than before. What he had done was unacceptable. He had practically erased her from her best friend’s memory.


	7. Cruel Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, the next chapter, guys! Thank you for all the love and support <3  
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S.: For those of you, who haven't seen my "Character Sheet Thing" for Manon:  
> https://denamakesart.tumblr.com/post/171023219145/meet-manon-lovett-my-ventrue-oc

There were three things Manon had learned about her sire real quick. Number one, he was prince of the Domain, basically being the boss of every single vampire spending his nights in Los Angeles, Number two, he was insanely rich, living an existence in decadence and luxury and number three he was a heartless and ruthless bastard, who would stop at nothing to get his will.  
He had acted gently towards her in the beginning, but she had soon realized that this had been only a charade for him, as now reality reared its ugly head and she had seen a glimpse of his real face, he always hid behind this blasé and exalted mask.

The next days she had begun working at the Venture Tower.  
Things had calmed down between her and the prince since that night at Club Confession, but in her opinion it was still far from well. She didn’t even have that much contact with him. Regarding that he was her sire, he seemed to be far too busy to take care of his fledgling. But this didn’t mean that there was no work for her to do. Someone had labelled the tasks she had been given via Carla as “ghoul work”. She had to run some errands within the company, work on some boring excel templates and even had to fetch something from the cellar archives a few times. 

The first time she had been down there, had been a spooky experience, as she had got to known the archivist, Sam, in a rather embarrassing way. Sam was a member of the Nosferatu clan, whose vampires suffered severe deformities.  
As she had walked into the archive, Sam had noticed her vampiric nature and revealed herself to her, letting her have the biggest fright of her life.  
To say the least, Sam was an ugly motherfucker; there was no way to sugar-coat it. His bald head looked like a greenish, dried up raisin, his eyeballs were yellowish and a prominent feature of his face and his whole skin was covered in, what seemed like warts, like the ones toads usually had. He always walked hunched and his fingers were long with even longer, sharp nails attached to them.  
But as her nerves had calmed down again, he had apologized and told her that he normally hid from the mortal with their clan discipline of obfuscate, that allowed him to be almost invisible. Sam, like her was in fact a neonate, he was a vampire for three years now and used to work in a cyber security firm, when he was kine. Manon found out that they had visited the same university; he had graduated there a few years ago already. All in all, seeing past his grotesque appearance Sam was a cool guy, even though she was a little grossed out, as he cracked open a rat and drank it like people drink beer.

The few times she actually saw her sire, she noticed that he never smiled at all. His face was always in a bitter frown, confirming the suspicion that all the smiles he had gifted her before the incident with Gemma had been fake. This made her sad for some reason, but all together she had stomached, that the man who had turned her into a kindred was not a friendly one.  
He could be cruel, unapologetic and manipulative, and these were just the things she had witnessed.

A lot of things had changed. Firstly, she had asked Mercurio to get rid of all the blood that had been in her fridge, as it didn’t fit her preference any longer. It was like having the sort of vegetable, that you didn’t like lying around and you know that there would be no way for you to ever eat it.

She had gone out to hunt alone two times already, exploring the new taste, she had discovered. Her victims had been an art student and a very friendly graffiti sprayer, that she had found near her apartment last night, so far. Feeding wasn’t easy, she had found out – not every donor was suitable.

Also she had noticed that Carla seemed to make efforts to get to know her. Probably she was also trying to get on her good graces, as she was after all the childe of her boss. As LaCroix had turned out to be a two faced wanker, she now suspected that everyone else here was as well. Well, except for Sam perhaps, who had stated his disliking of LaCroix very openly to her.  
“If you ask me, he has a stick up his ass.” He had confessed, while feasting on his lunch rat.

In one of the sets of her new clothes Manon entered LaCroix’s office, because he had written her an email, asking her to see him. It had taken her a while, as seemingly each and every Camarilla vampire working here had to compliment her outfit.  
And even though she suspected that it had been more out of a respect towards the prince than anything else, she couldn’t deny that this had boosted her confidence completely.

As she closed the door behind her, she noticed that LaCroix in fact wasn’t there, but the office was not empty. Sitting on one of the sofas was a very handsome man, holding a tablet in his hands, through which he was browsing. He looked up, when he heard her enter, looking at her with emerald eyes and a broad smile instantly cracked upon his beautiful face. He almost left her speechless and she had to concentrate not to stare at him like an idiot.  
“Oh hello!” he got up and approached the woman just to shake her hand in a firm grip. The man’s voice was soft and he, like LaCroix, had a French accent. His cold fingers were the proof that he was in fact another vampire.  
He wore an elegant suit with shining shoes and had his short brown curls in an elegant cut and swept to the side in a part that suited him very well. In the breast pocket of his suit jacket there was a paisley dress handkerchief in a dark shade of red that was out of the same material as his tie and he wore solid golden cufflinks on the sleeves of his milk white shirt.  
When he smiled he revealed a row of perfect white teeth and Manon couldn’t help but to smile back.  
“Claude Lambert, Seneschal of this humble domain!” he introduced himself. “And you must be Manon! The prince has told me so much about you!”  
She lifted an eyebrow.  
He had told him about her? What ever could he have told the man, regarding that he hadn’t taken the time to get to know her herself.  
“Indeed! Nice to make you acquaintance!”  
Seneschal, Seneschal… that was another title within the Camarilla, but she didn’t know exactly what he would do in this position.  
“It is nice to see, that there is new blood for the Ventrue clan.” He went on “But it seems you have picked the most difficult sire in whole Los Angeles.” The man chuckled and let go of her hand.  
With a confused face she looked back at him. “I didn’t exactly pick him…”  
“I know, we do not pick out our sires, unfortunately, this is the case with most of us.”  
Manon bit her lower lip, his comment unsettling her.  
“What do you mean with ‘the most difficult sire’?” she asked him, trying to sound casual, but probably didn’t manage that.  
The man laughed full heartily, before he lowered his voice. “Haven’t you noticed yet?”  
He laughed even more at her puzzled face “He just happens to be the most narcissistic, arrogant, self-centred, insensitive, workaholic and detached person I know. Was surprised when he told me, he had embraced in the first place. Always considered him too… busy to have a childe on his own.”  
Yes, indeed she had noticed that.  
He probably saw the shocked expression on her face, because he smiled encouragingly at her. “But chin up, fledgling!” he then told her. “You seem like a confident, young lady. LaCroix is nothing you can’t handle!”

Suddenly the door opened and said Ventrue entered the room. “So, I hear you tell my fledgling horror stories about me?” he nonchalantly asked Claude, who acted shocked.  
“What? Me?” he grinned “I wouldn’t dare, my prince!”  
“Miss Lovett, meet Claude Lambert, he is my seneschal from the Toreador clan.” He introduced the other man to her.  
“He meant to say, I am basically the man who ruins his fun all the time.” The Toreador laughed, wiggling his eyebrows.  
LaCroix rolled his eyes. “Is there anything else I can help you with? I am sure you are very busy downtown.” He drawled in his blasé and bored demeanour.

“No, I am on my way out!” Claude laughed. “If I were you, I wouldn’t take him too seriously!” he winked at Manon, his handsome face smiling. “He just loves drama.” Manon couldn’t help but return the smile, as he shook his head giggling and left the office. “So long, my prince and princess!”  
As LaCroix noticed her grin, he glared at her and lifted an eyebrow.  
“So, have you read all of the things I told you to?” he reminded her harshly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  
Did he overhear what the Toreador had told her?  
Manon froze in her movement; she almost wasn’t able to talk as his look dug into her like a sharp dagger, until she remembered that she should answer him his question.  
Indeed, he had sent her a bunch of emails, that contained titles and chapter names of books, that were stored at her new apartment for her to study.  
Every single mail had his stupid automatic signature at the bottom.

_Sebastian LaCroix,  
Chief Executive Officer, LaCroix Foundation _

He seemed to insist on these formalities.

“Yes, I… well, most of it.”  
Gosh, she thought, this was worse than school.  
Manon nodded not quite daring to directly look at him.  
“Look at me, when you talk to me.” He ordered her and she lifted her head to meet his gaze with her amber eyes. His face was stone cold and merciless.

“Don’t spend too much time with Claude.” He suddenly added in a softer voice “I fear he… might not be the best influence.”  
Manon didn’t quite understand what he meant, but she decided against asking him. Instead she nodded obediently and managed to keep focused on his eyes, like he had taught her to do.

“So, now that you are here, I need to inform you of the next step of your educations.” He began, walking towards his desk. Manon followed him and came to a hold as he rounded it and sat down into his leather chair. “This will be one of the most important things.”  
Great, she thought, he probably had found even more boring tomes for her to read.

“Therefore we are going to leave tomorrow night.” He informed her, leaning back, his gaze still resting on her “It is time for your next lesson, which will prepare the start of your Agoge.”  
As he noticed how she looked at him with confused eyes he added: “Which is the process of integrating you into the clan. You are not a full Ventrue before you haven’t finished it. And you would know that, if you actually would have read the books I have asked you to do.”  
Manon bit the inner of her cheek downcast, and fought the urge to stare at her feet.  
“Pack the books, you will need them.” He continued, after he had sighed annoyed.

“Where are we going?” she asked carefully, and he folded his hands in front of his face.  
“Don’t worry, not too far away.” He explained with a light and snobbish chuckle, that made her almost roll her eyes at him “We will be staying at a hotel in Beverly Hills, where I will teach you about our society and our clan.”  
“Oh.” She made, not expecting this. He had barely spent any time with her since her embrace and now he planned on teaching her?

“But tonight, I have an errand for you.” LaCroix suddenly ordered her, pulling a letter out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “This is for the Baron of Hollywood. Talk to Carla, she can give you the address. I want to you deliver this as quickly as possible and return to tell me what he had said to you.”  
Manon took the letter and put it into her bag.  
“That is all.” He waved his hand, gesturing her to leave, which she did very quickly, keen to get out of this situation.


	8. Hollywood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not going to lie, this is one of my favourite chapters so far. Enjoy!

Was she just his delivery girl of the night? She had run errands like this before, but never delivered to such an important person as a Baron. 

The limousine came to a hold in front of a seemingly normal building. This was where the Baron of Hollywood lived? It didn’t look as intimidating as the Venture Tower, but maybe that was all part of the masquerade?  
She grabbed her bag and opened the door. As the cool night air hit her face, she paused for a moment, and looked up. It had started to rain lightly and she could see little dark spots appearing on the pavement.

As she got out, she had the chance to have a closer look at the building.  
“Abrams Golden Age Jewelry.” Golden letters over the stylish wooden door, that was framed by dark marble said.  
Manon peaked into the shop window, where beautiful necklaces, earrings and amulets were put carefully on display.  
She took a deep breath and remembered that Carla had told her to take the backdoor, as the shop was closed at night. Right.  
Casually she looked around and entered a small alley on the left side of the building.  
She had expected it to be dark, but as it was on one of the hills of Hollywood it was illuminated by the skyline of Los Angeles. She quickly spotted another door, that was between two gas lamps and found it to be completely different than the first door she had seen.  
It was out of reddish wood and had a mosaic window in them, which reminded her of stained glasses she had seen in churches.  
Should she knock?  
Her little white hand knocked three times at the door, after she hadn’t noticed a bell or something similar.  
Nothing. The Ventrue waited for a while, before she straightened her position and put her hand onto the doorknob. As she turned it she found the door open and entered.

When she stepped into the building, she was blinded by bright lights.  
The room was marvellous. Red was the dominating colour and the walls were decorated by a rich burgundy tapestry, dozens of dark wood pillars and gold framed paintings. The floor was completely covered by a huge Persian carpet that had all kinds of exotic patterns and a huge chandelier hung on the ceiling that was too low for it. A green leather sofa was standing besides a huge pot with a tiny bonsai tree and in the middle of the room, there was a big and antique desk, that fitted to the interior perfectly. The only things that seemed odd, were the big flat screen TV hanging on the wall behind the desk and the two old fashioned computer monitors on it.

The last thing she noticed was the man sitting behind said desk, as he had been hidden by the monitors, but as he heard her enter he immediately got up.

“Welcome.” He greeted her, but his tone displayed anything but pleasure. He looked like he was in his early fifties, had short grey hair and wore a suit that probably originated from the 1940s. His sharp face showed a displeasing expression and he looked at her out of honey coloured eyes.   
“Hello, Manon Lovett, nice to meet you!” she smiled reaching her hand out to him but he didn’t shake it. Instead he stood there, his hands in his pockets, eying her suspiciously.  
“The prince has sent me with a delivery.” She quickly explained and opened her bag to pull out the envelope LaCroix had given her.

His face darkened again, as he fetched it out of her hand and sat down again.  
“What does this baby-faced Ventrue have to say to me this time?” he grunted, grabbing a letter opener and carelessly opening it up.   
He read the letter and afterwards he folded it and put it down on the table top.  
“Ah, this fop doesn’t even have the courage to tell me in person and sends his pretty asset.”  
Manon lifted an eyebrow. Fop? She almost had to smile, that someone who looked and acted like him had the nerves to call anyone like that.  
“At least you had the decency to introduce yourself in my domain.” Abrams leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing her. His domain? Manon was confused. “Say,…” he continued “You are not one of his usual air headed lackeys. Are you new to Los Angeles?”  
She cleared her throat and nodded. “I’ve been embraced just recently.” She told him.  
He scoffed “So he is sending just a fledgling…” The Baron mused. “Interesting. Do tell me… who is the one who has embraced you? It was a Ventrue, that I can see.”  
An uncomfortable feeling was spreading through her body as she felt like she was made out of glass to this Toreador.  
But she couldn’t tell him, that is was LaCroix, right? With all, that they had spoken before, it was clear, what he thought of the prince and his politics.  
Before she could answer, he shook his head.  
“You know, it doesn’t really matter. I mean, we are not responsible for our sires, right? It isn’t like we decided to become kindred,… well in the most cases at least. But maybe you rethink your position.”  
Manon tilted her head before he started to explain.  
“L.A. was an anarch city before Prince Prissy and the other Capes showed up and it was good the way it was. The Camarilla is outdated, as well as their whole systems of clans and regency and all the other bullshit. You as a Ventrue would know best, I suppose. Only one’s stricter are the Tremere.”  
He paused to scoff.  
“Damned Strauss and his blood witches…” he muttered under his breath. “My point is, that they limit our personal freedom. Here with the anarchs it doesn’t matter where you come from, which clan you’ve been embraced into, we couldn’t give a heck about who your sire was… Maybe you would consider leaving all this Cammie-bullshit behind eventually… when you come to realize how two faced they are. You do seem like a clever girl…”

Manon didn’t know how to respond to that.  
“But I digress…” he suddenly said “I am just an old man rambling. If you get back, please tell LaCroix to go fuck himself. That will be all.”

Manon nodded, not out of respect, but because this whole situation had been weirding her out.  
So not everyone respected the leader of the domain. That was a piece of information that was in fact very intriguing.  
“Thank you and… good night.” Manon muttered, before turning to the door again.  
“Send Carla my best regards!” he called after her, as she left the building.

This had been more than odd. Relieved she stepped onto the street. Did he really want her to join the anarchs?   
Manon took a deep breath and thought about her next possibilities. She didn’t want to go back to the Tower immediately. It just occurred to her, that she had never been to Hollywood by night before. Sure, when she had arrived from England she had taken one of the many sight seeing tours around the town, she even had been to the Hollywood sign, but she remembered her tour guide and afterwards many colleagues from University had told her that this wasn’t the best place to linger around after dark.  
But now, that she was a vampire, she knew, or at least hoped, that she would be the most frightening thing out there.

“Hey, kid!” a low voice made her spin around and she could see a man leaning against the wall of Abrams jewellery.  
He was dressed in a tank top he wore underneath a buttoned up bowling shirt. Around his neck there was a silver necklace and his face was pale and looked stern. His hair was very short, dark and it looked as if it had been sheered by himself. He wore a moustache that connected to a goatee and framed his mouth that curled up into a smile, that didn’t reach his eyes.  
“Rumour tells me you are the newest addition to L.A.’s finest Camarilla.” He spat, making her take a few steps back.  
“I am sorry, but who are you?” she managed to ask as he approached her, his eyes never leaving hers.  
“Nines Rodriguez.” He told her, crossing his muscular arms in front of his equally ripped chest. “One of the last Barons that still believe in the anarchs.”  
Another anarch, she thought, how great.  
He lifted an eyebrow and Manon saw, how his muscles flexed, as if by accident.  
“Manon Lovett…” she then quickly introduced herself, noticing how she had been paralysed “I am new to the club.”  
Nines laughed. “Club?” he chuckled amusedly “That’s another way you can call this ship of the damned!”  
Weakly she smiled back, hoping he would just leave her alone, but this in fact was not the case.

“You’re LaCroix’s childe.” He suddenly revealed, making her breath hitch. “I can smell the stench of his blood all over you.”  
Nervously she took another step back and felt her shoulders hitting the wall behind her.  
“But don’t worry, kid, I am not going to let out the business I have with this bastard on someone who just got dragged into it, no. I just came to make you an offer.”  
Manon supressed rolling her eyes, as it was probably not the wisest decision.  
“If you try to make me join your side, you are a little late. Abrams just tried to do so.” She shrugged, making him grin.  
“I am not going to convert you, kiddo, don’t worry.” Nines scoffed, crooking his neck. “I am just offering you, to tell you the real story, before all this Cammie Propaganda sets roots in your pretty head. Why don’t you pay us a visit at the Last Round? It’s not that far from your daddy’s ivory tower.”  
She swallowed hard and threw a glance over her shoulders, where the limousine was still waiting for her.  
“I see you are busy.” Nines laughed darkly “But my offer stands. Hope to see you around soon.”  
“Thanks…” she quickly nodded, before she hurried back to the car.  
“And kiddo?”   
She turned her head, as he called her again. “Don’t trust that king son of a bitch! The only place LaCroix belongs is in an ash tray!”

With a bitter taste in her mouth, Manon got into the limousine and shut the door behind her.  
“Back to the tower, please.” She commanded the ghoul, who wordlessly started the engine and drove the car along the street, heading back downtown.  
Manon looked out of the window, where little raindrops were softly hitting against the stained glass. She had always loved the rain, she found it soothing and relaxing, but since she had moved to the states there hadn’t been as many rainstorms as she would have wished for.

 

As soon as Manon entered LaCroix’s office she could spot him sitting at his desk, next to him to her great displeasure, the sheriff, intimidating as usual in his dark leather coat with the huge sword on his back, looking like a grotesque statue someone with a very bad sense of anatomy had sculptures while being drunk.  
He didn’t even acknowledge her entry and she couldn’t even tell if he was just a huge gorilla paper cut out or a real kindred.

“So, how was your meeting with baron?” she was greeted by his usual drawling, the sheriff next to him, not even flinching.  
“It’s been…” she started out, throwing a nervous glance at the brute next to him “…unusual.”  
LaCroix noticed her tension and waved his hand at the sheriff, who abandoned his position and walked past Manon to leave the office.

“Care to elaborate?” the prince impatiently tapped his fingers against the surface of his antique desk “What did he say?”

“He said…” she stopped fidgeting her hands slightly “… well, he did use very colourful words, and I rather not repeat them and-“  
“Miss Lovett.” He interrupted her, a look into his eyes telling her that she should better do what he wanted her to.  
“Well, he… he told me to tell you to ‘go fuck yourself’.”  
LaCroix lifted both of his eyebrows for a moment.  
“Classy as ever…” he muttered more to himself.  
“And he called you a baby-faced fop…” she continued without thinking, gaining an irritated look from her sire.   
“I see…” he continued, leaning back in his chair. “So this fool thinks he can insult me in such a tedious way. But very well,… regardless of the outcome, you did a good job. Have you had any other unusual encounters in Hollywood?”

Manon thought if she should tell him about the other anarch, but she figured that he would find out sooner or later.  
“Yes, I met a man, called Nines Rodriguez.” She spoke, wanting to tell him the full story first, but then she decided not to do so.  
“Oh.” LaCroix made, seemingly a little startled by the mention of this name. “And what did he want?”  
“I am not sure…” Manon lied, trying to look as innocent as possible “He just introduced himself and asked me if I was new.”  
The way he looked at her, signalled her, that he didn’t quite believe her story.  
“He asked you to meet him, didn’t he?” he stated, propping his chin up on his hands. “He wants to lure you into their petty little headquarters to spread more lies about me.”  
It scared her, that he seemingly was able to read her like an open book.  
“Yes.” She squirmed a little on the spot, as he tutted at her.  
“Stop fidgeting.” He commanded, which made her look up.  
The prince got up from his leather chair and walked towards one of the huge windows behind him, his back facing her.  
“Don’t blame yourself.” He sighed condescendingly “He does that with every new Camarilla member he meets.”  
Manon stood there, lost inside of his spacious office.  
“Come here.” He suddenly ordered, not even looking at her.  
The woman straightened up her posture, before taking the steps towards him, the heels of her shoes clacking on the wooden floor.  
She came to a stand next to him in front of the window.  
“Look at the city.” He started out, pointing at the night view of Los Angeles. They were up really high and she almost felt faint as she looked down.  
“It needs guidance and a strong hand. It is my responsibility to ensure it is ruled properly for many nights to come.” LaCroix turned to her, and she again noticed how piercing his eyes were, as they met hers. “It is our responsibility as Ventrue to ensure the dominance of the Camarilla. Without these structures, that might seem a little harsh to outsiders, this city would descend into chaos. The Sabbat just takes every opportunity to harm us. Do you see, why this is needed?”  
Manon nodded slowly.  
“Good.” He gave her a nod of his head “I want you to bare that in mind, whenever again you are confronted with the Anarchs and their ridiculous agenda.”

Manon was silent, staring out of the windows into the darkness of the night sky.  
“So.” He pulled her out of her thoughts “You better go home and pack now. My driver will pick you up tomorrow night and take you to the hotel.” The woman blinked, before she quickly nodded again. She just didn’t have the energy to respond to him anymore. With quick steps she left his office, on the way out passing the sheriff and entered the main office, where she found Carla at the help desk.  
“Hey!” the redhead greeted her and she noticed Claude, who was propping himself up at Carla’s desk. “How did it go? In Hollywood, I mean?”  
Manon was unsure how much she could reveal to the Toreador, especially as Claude next to her seemed to prick up his ears.  
“It went… well.” She decided to say.  
Carla smiled broadly. “Good to hear… Isaac can be… difficult at times, but when you get to know him, he is actually a very decent chap.”  
Manon had to grin at her choice of words.  
“So, tomorrow is the big night, hu?” she continued, her big, beautiful eyes blinking.  
“Yes…” Manon awkwardly confirmed, avoiding her gaze.  
“What night?” The seneschal joined their conversation, his eyes piercing into Manon.  
“The Prince is taking her out to prepare her for her official introduction into the domain!” Carla chortled happily “You know how the Ventrues are will all of their traditions.”  
Claude’s mouth formed an O before he started to laugh, making Manon turn her head, not quite knowing what was so funny about that.  
“Haha, good luck with that!” he giggled, hiding his mouth behind his hand “And be prepared for the worst!” The worst?  
“What is that supposed to mean?” Manon’s voice was shaking against her will.  
“Don’t you know? When you make a mistake, Ventrues punish their childe pretty hard.” He continued “They even cut off their fingers or deny them vitae for a period of time.”  
As her eyes went big in shock, Carla playfully hit the back of Claude’s head.  
“Stop it Claude, Manon isn’t going to make any mistakes like that!” she chided the man “She is a very intelligent woman and the Prince will certainly not punish her like that!”  
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that!” Claude scoffed, holding his belly of laughter “But don’t worry, fingers grow back.”  
Manon mumbled an excuse and left towards the elevator as quickly as possible. She heard Carla call her name, but she didn’t respond, as she wanted to get back home as soon as possible.


	9. Shadows come from Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter! Again, a song, I listened to, while writing :)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3oUEI2eos6g

“Oh my gosh!” Manon’s eyes were big, as she looked around in the penthouse suite. This place looked like it was out of a movie. When she had entered the hotel she had already realized that it was very luxurious and she didn’t even want to know how much a rent was for one night. She had been pleasantly surprised how she had been treated by the staff, who had looked at her in awe, as if she was a famous celebrity herself. She blamed her new vampiric aura, maybe she had even used the discipline of presence, that made people adore you and of which she had only read about. But the book had said, that it could happen unconsciously as well. The concierge had told her, that the “young gentleman” had already checked in an hour before and as he had wished her a “pleasant night together” she would have blushed. Of course for a mortal it wouldn’t be farfetched that they were together, as both of them appeared young, handsome and wealthy, but if they knew the truth…  
She snapped out of her thoughts as the sound of someone clearing their throat stopped her from admiring the suite.  
She hadn’t noticed the Prince sitting on the sofa, his notebook on his lap. Of course, he would use every free minute to work, which made her wonder, if the he even had something like hobbies or if he was just a workaholic, through and through. The thought of spending a week alone with the prince in a penthouse suite of a luxurious hotel had made her quite anxious, but now being trapped in the situation was much worse, than anything she could have imagined.  
“Good evening.” He greeted her, putting his laptop aside and got up to formally shake her hand, something he never did at the office.  
Also, he was wearing one of his suits. They were going to spend a week on the couch of a penthouse suite reading and he was seriously going to do that while wearing suits?  
Sure, she hadn’t expected him to wait for her in sweatpants and t-shirt, but still it seemed a little too formal for the occasion.  
It was awkward, to say the least.  
“Hi.” She whispered and avoided to look into his eyes, which she realized, was her first big faux pas on their stay. Quickly her pupils shot up to meet his ice blue ones, which seemed to calm the situation.  
“I suppose you brought your books?” he stated, pointing at the big sports bag, that Manon carried on her shoulder. The woman nodded.  
“Very well.” His voice was lower than usual, sounding almost tame and soft, something she didn’t know he was capable doing. “So, tonight we will start your theoretical training. I have taken the liberty of bringing some additional literature from which I will teach you everything you need to know for your entry into the domain.”  
“Is there going to be a test at the end of the week?” she joked, but he didn’t seem amused.  
“For a matter of fact, yes.” He confirmed, making her swallow hard “And its outcome will determine, if you are ready for the next step.”  
“What is the next step?” Manon wanted to know, having a hard time to look at his face. He blinked. “Your entry into the domain.”  
“Right…” she sighed. What a great start. She had a slight idea what this week would be like.  
“But first, put your luggage into your room. We will start when you are ready.” He pointed at the suitcase she had brought with her.  
The suite had two bedrooms with separate bathing rooms. As soon as Manon had entered her bedroom, she closed the door behind her and dropped onto the bed.  
This was going great so far, she thought sarcastically, biting the inner of her cheek. After a while she got up straightened her posture. No need to get nervous. She would manage to make it through this. There was no other way. She noticed the small minibar under the luxurious TV set and curiously opened it up, to find a few blood bags, filled with her preference. A shy smile cracked across her face. Maybe she should drink something. After all, her last meal was a few days ago and she would need the energy.  
Carefully, she dug her fangs into the plastic and slowly sipped the blood, just hoping that she didn’t spill anything. To her relief she didn’t waste a single drop. But what now? She couldn’t just dispose the bag into the normal waste paper basket. Instead she decided to put it back into the fridge until she found a better solution.  
After she had checked her face in the bathroom mirror to make sure, there wasn’t any blood around her lips, she returned into the main room, where LaCroix was already awaiting her, a huge pile of books in front of him on the small coffee table.

LaCroix’s lectures turned out to be… rather unspectacular, not to say boring. He mostly let her read the books by herself, he had marked the chapter he deemed important, while he was working on his notebook. Whenever she had a question, he would explain it to her, but his tone was sounding rather annoyed, so she thought twice about asking him, when she encountered something, she didn’t quite understand, as she had the feeling that she was bothering him. Whenever she had finished a chapter, he tested her, by asking her a bunch of questions, which she had to answer, almost word for word, as it was stated. She had brought her notepad to take notes, but soon her fingers started to hurt from all the stuff she had to write down.  
After what seemed like an eternity, LaCroix allowed her to go to bed, announcing that she would be ready to continue their “lesson” the next evening.  
Discontent she went to bed, hoping that this boredom would soon be over. She was acquiring new knowledge, true, but she could have done so as well at home alone with more comfortable clothes and more breaks.

The next few nights turned out to be like the first one. Reading and answering questions. Except for his little pop quizzes, he seemed to ignore her and when he spoke to her, it was detached and very cold.  
Manon grew more and more exhausted. This was torture. But she had to do it, she had to succeed. Claude’s words were still in the back of her head and she was afraid what the Prince would do to her, if she would fail his questions. One time, she had answered one in a way that hadn’t been sufficient and he had given her a look, that seemed to be a warning. Becoming Prince of a domain was nothing someone would accomplish just by being diplomatic and nice and she couldn’t even imagine what LaCroix was capable of, if someone really would piss him off.

Wednesday was the worst, as she had the feeling that there was no way, she would press any more information about the Camarilla and Ventrue History into her brain. She felt drained and wasn’t able to concentrate any longer. When LaCroix asked her questions to an especially boring chapter, she couldn’t even remember one single word that she had been reading.

“Wrong!” he sighed, seemingly annoyed by her failure “Concentrate! Praetor, Aediles, Questors, Eiren – How hard can that be?”

“I….” she stuttered, her hands shaking as she clenched them into fists. She suddenly remembered what Claude had told her back at the Venture Tower. A wet tear ran down her cheek as her eyes were widened in panic and she still did her best to look at him, if she narrowed her eyes now, this would surely mean her end. She just couldn’t do this any longer.

“Are you crying?” the prince suddenly asked her, sounding almost scornfully. With that Manon broke down.

"Please don't cut off my fingers, Sir." She wept, covering her face with her hands. He blinked a few times. Oh how disgusted he must have been right now. Her, begging him for mercy, wasn't fit for a proud Ventrue.

"Excuse me?" He suddenly spoke his eyes widening a little. Discretly he handed her a tissue from the box on the sofa table. "Careful or it will leave stains." Manon wiped away her tears and looked at the tissue. It was red, as blood had replaced all of her body fluids.

"Thank you." She sniffed not sure if she meant the tissue or that he hadn’t punished her yet.

"Now tell me, where did you hear this from?" LaCroix asked his brows furrowed in a very serious tone "that I would cut off your fingers?" "Just stories..." she confessed still shaking out of relief.  
“Claude?” he sighed, tapping his fingers against the armrest of the chair.  
Reluctantly she nodded, staring at her hands.  
LaCroix leaned back in his chair. "No. I would not do this to you." He then said, it was clear that this accusation had offended him. He studied her face for a while before he added: "I will have a talk with Claude and he better hopes I don’t cut off his fingers…who does he think he is, scaring my fledgling like that?”

Manon sighed and hid behind the tissue. "I apprechiate that."  
For a moment worry flickered over his face.  
"It would be a shame to cut off those delicate fingers." He commented probably to cheer her up.

She tried to stop sobbing, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Thank you for..." he shrugged lifting an eyebrow. "Who would this even benefit, if I punish you by cutting off your body parts..." he spoke with a low voice, brushing off imaginative dust from the sleeve of his suit jacket.  
They were silent for a moment, while Manon managed to calm down.

"Nevertheless, you need to pay more attention to your studies. Just imagine how shameful it would be, if you couldn’t even do something as simple as naming the members of the Gerousia. Not just for you, but also for me! Memorize this as quickly as possible!” he went on, his usual bossy tone back again.

“I will, Prince…” she stuttered, witnessing how he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his index finger.  
“Please… call me Sebastian,… at least when we are alone… this formality is not necessary in our situation…”  
Did he just really allow her to call him by his given name? She had never encountered other kindred within the Camarilla who had that privilege.

Manon blinked a few times before her mouth curled into a shaky smile.  
“Thank you, Sebastian…”  
“You are welcome.” He responded, lifting one eyebrow. She stared at the tissue in her hand that was stained red. This was something she still needed to get used to.  
“So, Manon.” The woman had to look up, when he called her. She had to admit that she loved the way he pronounced her first name in his accent.  
“I think we might take a little break here, so we can… both calm down a little. And I will have a word with Claude!” he shook his head and stood up, while pulling his phone out of his suit pocket.

“Is this really usual for Ventrue Sires to punish their childer so harshly?” she suddenly gained the courage to ask.  
LaCroix shrugged his shoulders, still looking at the screen of his phone, seeming annoyed again.  
“Of course! But just because some airheaded elders from the middle ages do it, it doesn’t mean that I will do that to you.” He said casually, looking up so their gazes met again. He cleared his throat. “My sire… used to punish me very hard when I was a fledgling. For minor things. I hated him for that. And I don't want you to hate me."  
“Really?” she whispered, a sob caught in her throat. It was rather late for that, wasn’t it?  
LaCroix nodded and bit his tongue.  
“What did he do… if you don’t mind me asking?” Manon went further, not sure if he even would answer to that. Maybe she had gone too far? After all, he was the Prince and he wasn’t obligated to answer to anyone in this domain.  
LaCroix was silent for a moment, and she was sure, that he would ignore her question, but then he clicked his tongue against his palette.  
“Anything you could imagine.” He shrugged casually, as if he would just tell her about what he had seen on a holiday trip. “Cutting off my fingers, pulling out my teeth and fingernails, breaking my legs, starving me, one time when he was really angry he even cut off my…” as if he had said too much, he quickly paused and shook his head “… but that’s a story for another night.”  
Manon looked at him with big eyes, not being able to fathom how someone could be this cruel to another person. She was just glad, that LaCroix had decided not to discipline her physically.

After that incident, his attitude had shifted a little, at least Manon thought so. His demeanour still was blasé and strict, but he seemed to be more helpful than before. It was Friday night, almost dawning, when she had gone through the last chapter and he had decided that she had done well. As they still had a little time, he decided to rehearse her text for the official ceremony with her. Basically she had to swear to be loyal to the Domain, the Camarilla, the Clan, the Prince and her sire, which in her case turned out to be the same person, of course. The most difficult thing she needed to memorize, was her lineage, which could be traced back until a Fifth Generation Metuselah and of course all of LaCroix’s- Sebastian’s middle names.

“My sire, Prince Sebastian Baptiste Alphonse Yves LaCroix, embraced 1815 into the 7th generation…” she felt weird reciting all of his names, especially when he was sitting next to her. “Was I correct?”  
“Not quite.” He tilted his head, seemingly a little tired “You missed the Jules at the end.”  
“Oh.” Manon was a little ashamed, collecting her thoughts again.  
“So… Sebastian Baptise Alphonse Yves _Jules_ LaCroix…”  
“ _Prince!_ ” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.  
“Sorry…” she apologized fidgeting with her pen.  
“You’ve got far too many names…” she muttered without thinking.  
“Excuse me?” he asked, his tone sounding offended.  
“I am sorry.” She apologized. “This is just… a whole lot to memorize. People just don’t have such long names anymore.”  
“My dear Manon.” He started out, an almost scornful expression on his face. “I know for a fact, that you too have two additional middle names, so this practice isn’t out of use nowadays, I suppose, _Manon Désirée Antoinette?_ ” She shot a glance at him. He seemed to take a lot of pride in his heritage and lineage, and so her comment had been probably very unwise. She didn’t know how he had found out about her two middle names, as she had never used them on any formal occasion. They were probably only in her birth certificate, and she surely hadn’t shown him that.  
“I am named after my Mother’s aunts.” She then told him, even though she didn’t think that this was interesting to him.  
“What was your mother’s maiden name?” he suddenly asked out of the blue, making her look up.  
“Patenaude.” She then told him, her eyes meeting his.  
“Really?” he answered amusedly “Did you know that this names originates from the profession that-“  
“-crafted rosaries.” Manon completed his sentence with a soft smile “My mother has told me that. My grandfather still manufactured them and sold them in his shop, when he was alive.”

He scoffed amusedly and Manon gave him a puzzled look.  
“Funny, if you had your mother’s name, this would be a sacrilegious name for a Cainite.” He complied, his gaze resting on her.  
“It would…” she agreed, feeling terribly tired now “Not unlike LaCroix, I suppose…”  
His lips almost curled up again, before he sat up straight again.  
“Let’s call it a day, shall we?” he broke the moment by getting up “The sun will rise soon and I can’t concentrate anymore anyway.”  
Reluctantly Manon also pushed herself onto her feet again.  
“Good rest, Manon.” He wished her, before he turned to the huge winged doors, that lead into his private chambers of the penthouse suite.  
“Sleep well…” she answered, stretching her limbs, as she herself returned to her bedroom.

After closing the door, she checked the blinds a second time, making sure, that they were indeed shut and laid down onto her bed. Tonight had been interesting.  
But for now she was just glad, that she would return home the next night. Before she fell asleep she remembered that LaCroix had apparently forgotten about the exam that he had announced she would have to take at the end of the week, and she was sure not to remind him of it.


	10. Pretty when you cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for the lovely comments, I am so happy that you enjoy this story :D  
> Also, I have drawn some characters that have already appeared  
> https://denamakesart.tumblr.com/post/176309091835/nocturne-characters-here-are-some-characters-of
> 
> Also I figured for this chapter I have to include a Trigger Warning for mentioned verbal sexual harassment.

With care she had chosen tonight’s outfit, that now consisted of a black pencil skirt, black heels and a classic white blouse. Nothing too fancy, except she had combined it with pearl earrings, simple studs, that weren’t too remarkable. Her hair was tied up into an elegant pony tail, that reached down to her shoulder blades. Manon's lips were painted in a paler shade of red, and her eye makeup was nothing special. Just a little eyeliner and mascara, nothing more.  
She took a deep breath, as she got into the elevator. He had insisted that she would be here twenty minutes earlier, than the rest, so that he could brief her. Tonight she would be attending her first meeting with humans since her embrace.

“Bonsoir, Manon.” LaCroix greeted her formally and got up from his desk.  
“Good Evening, Sebastian…” she answered, holding onto her bag tighter to relieve some tension. He looked incredibly handsome as always, his suit was dark grey and tonight he even wore a fitting waistcoat with a white shirt and an anthracite tie around his neck.  
His hair was tidy as usual, flaxen and brushed out of his exalted pale face.

“Have you brought your computer?” he asked her to which she responded with a nod. “Excellent.” He himself now grabbed a leather case from his desk. “Tonight you will be taking notes of the meeting, protocol whatever we speak. I will tell you more on our way.”  
He walked past her, she followed him a little confused.  
“Where are we going to?” she wanted to know.  
“Just one of the meeting rooms downstairs.” He then explained and pushed a button to call the elevator “I just don't like kine roaming around in the floor I have my office on.”  
She nodded her head, as the doors opened up with a light bing, and they got in.  
LaCroix pressed on the button with the big 8 on it.  
The elevator one mirrored wall. It was weird now, standing next to him in that bright light, he slender and blond, in the most expensive tailored suit and she, dark haired and small. She felt even smaller, compared to him next to her, even though Sebastian wasn’t a giant.  
Manon noticed how the prince straightened his tie, while looking at himself in the mirror.  
She concluded that he probably was a vain person, kind of fixated on his own looks. He for sure knew how handsome he was. Suddenly their eyes met in the mirror.  
Manon quickly looked down, he shouldn’t think that she was scrutinizing him here.  
“You look very elegant tonight.” He suddenly told her, making her eyes grow wide. What?  
“I like how you look with your hair up.” He continued, before the elevator stopped and they had to get off.  
“Thank you…” she muttered, but she was sure that he could hear her.  
What had that just been? A compliment from LaCroix? This wasn’t possible. Sure it had been unpolished and everything else than smooth, but still…  
She remembered how he had talked to the woman, when they had been hunting, how confident and coy he had been. How he had spoken to her now was blunt compared to his elegant behaviour back then. 

But he had just commented on her outfit… and on her hair. Maybe this also just had been small talk.  
She shouldn’t make too much out of this. For some reason tonight he seemed so… tame and almost friendly.

“Tonight will be something unusual…” he suddenly told her, as if nothing had happened “The people you will meet are all humans, completely oblivious to our nature. I do not normally make deals with them personally, but they are high profile clients and so I need to take care of this myself. Consider, that they are possible investors… And afterwards, I need you to accompany me to a boutique, as you will be introduced into the domain soon and need a formal dress for the occasion.”

“What?” she gasped, as she realized, what he had just been saying. “When?”  
He gave her an aghast look. “You don’t check your emails, don’t you?”  
“I do, but…” she stuttered, remembering the mail she had received from him this afternoon, that just an appointment he had invited her to over Outlook, that said something really vague, like “Intr. C.” set on this Friday. Manon had actually planned on asking him about it, thinking that it was just some meeting with Claude (she figured that this was what the C. stood for), but that this would actually be her official introduction into the Camarilla was catching her completely offguard.  
“Oh.” She just made, her eyes wide open.  
Sebastian sighed.  
“So, that is why I have already made an appointment at a boutique in Beverly Hills to do a fitting for you. We will leave as soon as the meeting is over.”

“Wow.” She commented with a light smile, still not realizing that her introduction would happen that soon “And I thought I was _your_ personal assistant!”  
The prince lifted one eyebrow, but he didn’t comment, as the elevator stopped and the door opened. He lead her down a dark corridor and suddenly opened a door to their left, the two of them entering a dark room. When he switched on the light, Manon’s eyes had a hard time accommodating to the brightness, but as soon as they did, she found herself in a huge meeting room, in a modern design, with a beamer and a huge table with leather chairs. Someone had put several glasses and bottled water onto it.

“Who are the people we will meet tonight?” she then asked him. LaCroix sighed. “Just two men from Avalon Incorporated.” He explained. “We export their product for many years now, but as they want to expand to Eastern Europe, we want to offer them a special deal. As they are very good clients, I will personally take care of this.”  
“Avalon?” she asked “Isn’t that this toy company? The one with all the guns and this weird doll?”  
LaCroix nodded and Manon remembered that she at one point had also owned a Double D Cici, of which she quickly became frustrated, as she couldn’t fit her into normal Barbie clothes, because of her breast size.  
She had seen their adverts on TV recently, at the moment they just seemed to sell toy guns, knives and swords and of course, their dolls. The clips were usually really loud and flashy and gave her a headache, as they portrait young boys, shooting at each other with bowels, that seemed to contain different coloured slime, playing warfare.

A polite knock at the open door interrupted her train of thoughts and she saw Claude entering.  
“My prince and princess!” he greeted them, his lips adorned by his usual mischievous smirk.  
“Good evening.” LaCroix didn’t look up, as he was setting up his notebook at the head of the table. “You are late.”  
“I am so sorry, but I had other business to attend to before.” Claude apologized and winked at Manon. “Ready to meet the kine?” he then asked towards Manon.  
“Sure!” she smiled, opening her own notebook in front of her.  
Claude laughed. “Did you know that usually the people who work in the toy industry are the worst?” he leaned forward to tell Manon.  
“Claude!” LaCroix threw in and it sounded like a warning. The Toreador snickered. “Well, I guess you will see for yourself then…”  
Manon frowned and looked from one vampire to the other.  
Suddenly the door opened up and three men entered. They were human, she could sense their heart beat.  
“Mr. Brent! Mr. Clarkson! How are you?” Claude smiled and walked towards them “Ah, Mr. Olson, haven’t seen you in a long time!”  
Manon watched him, shaking their hands. A man in his early thirties, who had slicked back hair, that was grey at his temples, rolled his eyes. “Cut the chit-chat Lambert, we are not here for your friendliness.”  
She noticed how he threw a glance at her, but then walked past her towards LaCroix.  
“LaCroix! Couldn’t you meet us somewhen during the day, hu?”  
The Ventrue shook his hand.  
“Mr. Clarkson.” He greeted him formally “Unfortunately no, you know that I am a very busy man.”  
Manon felt uncomfortable, but she couldn’t really explain why.  
All she noticed that, what she had seen of these men so far was very fitting to the image of this weird toy company.  
“Who is this, LaCroix?” one of the men, an overweight guy with a bald, suddenly asked, nodding slightly at the woman.  
“Mr. Brent, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Manon Lovett, my new personal assistant. I am sure, you don’t mind that she will join us tonight and protocol.”  
Brent rolled his eyes slightly, but then shrugged his shoulders.  
“If she must.”  
Manon threw an irritated glance at her sire, which he didn’t answer.  
Maybe they were just cranky because of the late hour. At least she was trying to be optimistic.  
With a fake smile, she turned towards the third man, a slim guy with grey hair, who looked a bit like a cross between a frog and a weasel.

“Manon Lovett, pleased to make your acquaintance!” she introduced herself and reached out her hand to greet him.  
He looked first at her, than at her hand, before he took it and shook it half heartily. “Sounds like a stripper name…” he muttered, loud enough for Manon to hear it.  
Again she threw a glance at LaCroix, who had sat down at the head of the table already. Kindred head an enhanced sense of hearing, there was no way he could have missed that comment, but he apparently decided to ignore it.  
The meeting hadn’t even started and she already felt as intimidated as she could be.

When the meeting was finally over, Manon kept her poker face on, even though it was harder for her than usual. Without anyone noticing she got up, put her computer under her arm and left the room, without turning back.  
Outside of the meeting room, after she had closed the door, she rushed to the lady’s bathroom as quickly as possible.  
There she had to cry. In her whole life, she had never felt so disrespected.  
It wasn’t just that they sent her to get coffee for them (five times), but they accused her of not having done it right (even though she had), or them dropping their pens multiple times and having Manon pick them up; it where the raunchy and inappropriate comments they had muttered under their breath, that were loud enough for her to hear. Those filthy, filthy men. When she had bowed down to pick up one of the pens, Mr. Clarkson had dropped, he had made a really nasty comment about her butt, that almost made her turn around and rip his guts out. But the worst thing was, that neither Claude, nor her sire had seemed to care! They must have heard that, right?

Manon wiped her face with the back of her hand, looking at herself in the mirror, as she was hunched over the sink, hoping no one had noticed that she had come her to cry.  
This had been humiliating. How could they treat her like this? She had been confronted with sexism in her life before, but never in such an extreme way. To be fair she had felt like a… piece of meat to them. Like they weren’t even seeing her as a human being. Well, Manon wasn’t human, true, but they didn’t know that! How could they talk to her in such a disrespectful way?  
She didn’t know how long she just stood there and cried, but after probably fifteen minutes, she managed to calm down. These men were hopefully already on their way out, as they constantly spoke about how they just didn’t want to have this meeting at this hour of the night. Ungrateful bastards, she thought, the Foundation was offering them a pretty good deal and yet they behaved like spoiled little brats. Those… those… worthless humans.  
Quickly she shook her head, to banish the thought. Just a few weeks ago, she had been a human herself, all veins, flaws, skin and flesh and now she already had thoughts like this? It made her cringe.

The Ventrue took a paper towel to wipe away the blood that had been leaking out of her eyes. Still, they were reddened, she just hoped no one paid attention to that. With a sigh, she finally found the courage to exit the bathroom, only to almost run into LaCroix.  
He lifted his brow and tilted his head.  
“Are you ready?” he asked her and his voice was unusually soft.  
“Yes, I…” she brushed her hand through her hair, not looking at him.  
“Good.” He commented, leading the way towards the elevator.“We will take my limousine to Beverly Hills, where you will pick the dress you will be wearing at the venue"  
Manon just nodded, not being in the mood to go shopping now, but she knew that it wouldn’t do anything else than making him angry, if she refused to do so.  
As she looked at herself in the mirror, she seemed smaller next to him than before.

The boutique turned out the size of almost three of them. The windows were hung with dark green velvet curtains as the shop was actually already closed down for the night. But for Lacroix every business would open longer.

The sales assistant, a bubbly lady in her forties, who had her blond hair in an amazing beehive updo, showed Manon around, suggesting the different dresses that would suit her best.  
“You are a winter type, you can wear almost everything!” she commented, and Manon had to admit that her joyfulness was contagious.  
LaCroix was silently joining them and after Manon had picked out several dresses to try on, he sat down on one of the luxurious leather chairs, that were the normal spot for annoyed husbands that were forced to go shopping with their wives. The thought made Manon giggle, as she entered the dressing room, to try on all of the different dresses.

The first dress she tried on was in a dark shade of petroleum and low cut. Its long sleeves were sheer and the skirt part was flowing over the ground.  
When she exited the changing room, LaCroix looked up and squinted his eyes.  
“No.” he just said, leaning back in his chair and grabbing one of the magazines on the side table next to him.  
Manon frowned and closed the curtains. He hadn’t even looked at her properly. She thought she looked gorgeous.  
The second one was a little tighter, salmon pink and back free.  
When she presented herself in this, he also shook his head, after he had observed her closely.  
It was like in a scene out of a bad movie, where she tried on dress after dress, but her ‘shopping helper’ would never like them.  
Manon got more desperate by the second. She had probably tried half of the dresses in the shop, and still her sire had always shook his head, before he continued to read in this stupid magazine.

Annoyed she sat down on the little chair in the changing chamber, wearing nothing but black lacy underwear. She thought she could choose the dress! But he never seemed to like any of the dresses she showed him.  
Suddenly she heard a polite cough through the curtain.  
It was the shop assistant.  
“Excuse me, Miss, but the young gentleman, had told me to bring you this dress. Maybe you would like it.”  
Her hand slipped into the cabin and put the garment onto the little rack.

Curiously Manon looked at the dress. It was black, made of a velvety material. It had a little bit of decent lace and complicated looking embroidery on it, she could only notice in the right light, as it was the same rich and smooth tone as the dress.  
She looked at the label. Chanel.  
Why didn’t this surprise her? He just seemed like the Chanel kind of guy. Also, of course, what a surprise it was black.  
It was shoulder free with an integrated bustier, that would surely compliment her hour glass figure.  
Carefully she slipped into the expensive piece of clothing, noticing how it fit perfectly. He had probably put a lot of care into this choice, or else she couldn’t imagine why it seemed like it was made for her.  
With the dresses she had tried on before, she purposely had avoided black, as her wardrobe was already full with black clothes and she feared that wearing a full gown in this colour would make her look like a walking corpse. But then, technically, she was a walking corpse, so it probably didn’t matter.  
Manon looked at herself in the mirror.  
The dress looked stunning on her body, giving her an amazing shape. The black, which stood in high contrast to her milk white skin, was giving her an exalted aura, as if she never wore anything else.  
Manon smiled and took a deep breath, before she pushed the curtains beside, revealing herself to LaCroix.  
He was sitting on his chair again, still reading, what she could see now, a magazine about bridal wear. When she approached him he looked up, putting his lecture carelessly beside.  
She could feel how his eyes roamed over her body.  
Encouraged by his reaction, she spun around, showing him, how the back of the dress looked like (there wasn’t much, as it was low cut), and then turned to him again.  
“Yes.” He just said, lifting an eyebrow, getting up.  
“We’re taking it.” He told the women, who clapped her hands with a friendly grin.

Manon got back into the changing room, slipping out of the dress, which she handed to the little lady, who had been waiting outside. As the woman had changed back into her own clothes and slipped the curtain beside, she could see LaCroix at the register, swiping his credit card over the payment terminal, while the shop assistant closes the zipper of a long dress bag.

As Manon approached them, the lady looked up and handed her the bag.  
“You will be the belle of the ball in this, no doubt about that!” she winked, gifting her a toothy grin. Manon awkwardly smiled back, not being used to compliments or such a nice treatment in a shop. LaCroix stuck his wallet back into his suit jacket.  
“Thank you.” He just said with pursed lips and a slight nod of his head “I wish you a pleasant night!”  
They left the boutique and as soon as they were on the street again, Manon took a deep breath.  
“You can’t just pay for everything…” she asked him, but he just lifted an eyebrow.  
“I can.” He simply claimed, as they were on their way back to his limousine. “But you can’t just start talking like this, whenever I make you a present.”  
He turned his head at her, making her stop in her tracks. “You could just learn to accept them instead, you know?”  
A soft smile adorned his lips and suddenly he was looking much younger than usual. What was going on tonight? First the clumsy compliments and now this? She couldn’t help herself, but to smile back, biting her tongue.  
“Thank you.” The woman murmured, looking directly at him.

From a distance she heard screetching tires, which wasn’t unusual, as they were next to a street after all, but she witnessed his eyes widening in shock, as he stared at something, that was seemingly behind her.  
Then everything happened very quickly. His hand was grabbing her upper arm, pushing her onto the ground, and she gasped as she hit the hard pavement.  
“What…?” she could only scream, when he himself dropped down next to her and all of the sudden she heard gunshots, flying over her head and hitting the wall behind them. Out of an instinct she covered her head. Were they just really in the middle of a drive by shooting?


	11. La Nuit Revient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I am sorry I kept you waiting for so long and I hope the next chapter is worth the wait :) Thank you all for your lovely comments, I haven't responded to them yet, but I will, I promise :) Thanks for keeping up with the story so far <3

Had this just really happened? Had they just really been in a drive by? If this wouldn’t be so frightening, she would have found this really exciting.  
Who even were those guys? And why did they want them dead?

All what she could see of their attackers, was, that they were apparently driving a vintage convertible oldtimer. Manon wasn’t an expert on cars at all, but she had always fancied the ones from the 1930s to the 1960s.   
She dared to glance at Sebastian, who had already propped himself up at the pavement, trying to get up.  
She expected him to ask her, if she was alright, but he did nothing like that. Instead, his lips were pursed and his nostrils flared and he seemed to ignore her.  
“I’ve always wanted to do that…”  
Manon whispered, still in shock, feeling the harsh surface of the street against the palms of her hands.  
LaCroix turned his head, as if he had just now remembered that she was there.  
“What?”  
“They had a really nice car…” Manon exhaled in relief.

“What?” LaCroix repeated and looked at her in irritation. Manon finally turned her head to face him  
“I’ve grown up with all these old movies and I want to cruise through the hills in such a car with huge sunglasses, gloves and a headscarf.” She explained, now a little ashamed of the comment.  
LaCroix rolled his eyes, seemingly still tensed.  
“Manon, you do realize that someone just shot at us from a vehicle?” he spoke, his eyes piercing through her.  
“Yes, but…” she began, but LaCroix just got up and brushed the dirt off his troursers.  
She got up herself as well, noticing that she had ripped her tights. She looked at her legs. They were pale and looked unharmed, as if she had never been pushed to the ground.  
LaCroix again ignored her and pulled his phone out of his pocket, obviously to call someone and have someone killed.  
“Who were those guys?” she finally dared to ask, glancing over at the blond prince, who seemed to be at the edge of losing his temper.  
“Sabbat.” He growled out of the corner of his mouth, pressing the phone against his ear.  
She had read about the Sabbat before, they basically were vampires, who… well, who even were they? As she wanted to ask him about it, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a blue light flashing, and as her eyes followed it, she saw, that a police car had just stopped around the corner.

Manon did probably something very inappropriate, as she pulled at the sleeve of his coat to get his attention and nodded her head towards the car, where she could see two uniformed men stepping out. Her blood froze in her veins. Police?

She heard him mutter something under his breath, as the two police officers approached them and he instantly grabbed Manon’s arm to hook it onto his.   
“I will do the talking.” He informed her in a hushed tone and put on a terribly fake grin, while stuffing his phone back into his pocket.  
Slowly they walked into their direction.

“Everything alright?” the first cop asked, as they reached them, scrutinizing first the Prince and then his eyes lingered longer on Manon as it had been necessary.   
He was a tall man, his hands in his sides, right above a broad belt, with a revolver attached to it.  
Against her will Manon was intimidated. She felt how LaCroix pulled her closer.  
“Yes, we are.” LaCroix told him, his lips curling up in a way that frightened her. It was still so weird, seeing him interacting with humans, or even outside of his tower.   
“Did you see what happened here?” the second, a buff guy with a moustache, who came to a hold next to his partner, asked.  
“I am terribly sorry, officer!” LaCroix’s voice was sweet as ever, and she felt his presence leaking into her brain as he spoke. “We just left the restaurant at the corner and there were people shooting from a car at some pedestrians. I suppose we just got caught in the middle.”  
The police man was a lot taller than the Prince and still the vampire managed to look down at him.  
“Ah, right.” He answered and pulled out a notepad. “It’s just, you were the only ones around here.”  
Against her will, Manon’s eyes went big. Shit. Shit Shit Shit! What a stupid lie. The cop seemed to notice how her face fell, because he looked at her closer.  
What if they found out that they were vampires? Had they noticed that she again had forgotten to breathe? She were going to endanger the whole Camarilla! They would be hunted down again, like in the middle ages! What had she done?  
“Anything wrong, Miss?” he asked, but as LaCroix cleared his throat, he made both of them look at him and the next thing Manon noticed, was that their eyes suddenly went dull.  
Now they were completely under his will, like Gemma had been.  
“There were actually at least six other pedestrians, but they fled. Also, we need to hurry, officers. I am sure you understand, and we would dearly appreciate if you won’t contact us about this formality.”  
“Of course, Sir!” they drawled in unison, turning away and walking straight back to their car.  
Manon just now realized that she still wasn’t breathing. Stupid breathing! How could a habit she had been literally practicing before she was even born, would be unlearned so easily?

The Prince rolled his eyes and turned around, her arm still in his.  
He didn’t need to say anything for her to squirm under his disapproving gaze.  
“Sorry…” she yelped “I… I think I panicked before…”

“You don’t have to be afraid of those worthless humans.” He scoffed in amusement, as they headed to where the limousine was already waiting for them. Manon felt utterly disgusted all of the sudden. He always behaved condescendingly, true, but… after all, he himself had used to be human as well. Just like she had been just a couple of weeks ago.  
“Don’t…” she started out, before thinking what she just had done.  
He stopped in his tracks, to look at her.  
“Don’t… what?” he asked and there was this scornful glow in his eyes, that made her uneasy and afraid.  
Shit.  
After swallowing hard, she shook her head briefly and took a deep breath.  
“Please, don’t talk about humans like that…” she finally had the guts to whisper.  
The Prince tutted at her.  
“They are just prey.” He shrugged “Don’t get overly sentimental.”  
He opened the door for her to get in, which she did without complaining, still in shock.  
Prey? Just Prey? She had never thought about it like that.   
To be honest, it shocked her, that he himself thought so little of humans. After all, they were everywhere and essential for their survival. Also, he had been one too at some point at his life.  
After he had gotten in as well, the driver started the engine of the limousine. It was dark, the only light source, where the dim light on the street and the screen of his phone, which he had between his fingers, eagerly writing something.  
He was probably informing the sheriff about what had happened.  
As she glanced to the side, she saw his face illuminated by the blueish light of the device. Suddenly he looked quite scary, his features as if they were made out of ice, cold and cruel.  
It took her a moment to gather the courage to speak again.  
“So, when I had that interview a few weeks ago…” she started out, her teeth digging into her lips. “Had I also been… just prey?”  
He briefly looked up, his pale eyes meeting hers for a moment, before he turned his attention back to his phone.  
“That was something different…” he muttered, his fingers moving on the display.  
“How?” Manon swallowed hard.  
“It just was.” He said and she knew that he was already annoyed.  
This wasn’t an answer, but she decided to not question him further about it. As they passed a bright billboard, she again noticed that her tights were ripped.  
“Why exactly did the Sabbat shoot at us?” she suddenly asked innocently.  
To her surprise this seemed to trigger his attention, as he put his phone down and directly looked at her.  
“Isn’t that obvious?” he snapped, but as her face displayed confusion, he lifted his eyebrows and clicked his tongue.  
“Every night you wake up, be thankful that you weren’t sired by one of their kind, or you would have woken under the ground, forced to claw your way up from the dirt, into a brief, bloody and violent existence. They are savages, irresponsible diablerists, who endanger our entire society. You find the most despicable of kindred within their ranks.”  
“But Los Angeles is a Camarilla city!” she threw in.  
“And we have to fight to keep it that way, my Ventrue.”his voice sounded like poisoned honey, sweet but deadly. Manon stared at her knees.  
“What we do, can’t be compared to anything the kine do.” He then continued “The tables could turn every night and we have always think at least three steps ahead.”

Traffic was slow that night, and every second she had to spend in the limousine to her seemed like ages. Neither of them talked and all LaCroix did, was again focusing on his phone. Manon kept staring out of the window, still processing what had just happened. Sure, Los Angeles had never been a safe city, she had always carried her pepper spray with her, but she had for sure never got almost shot out of a driving car. 

Again she glanced at the blond Ventrue, who had put his phone down and was staring out of the window as well. All she could see, was the silhouette of the back of his neck, that stood in hard contrast to the outside, that was brightened by neon sings.  
The car stopped the second time at the same red light.  
This was more than awkward for her, bad enough that she was stuck in a car, but then with her sire. Talking to him was like walking on a hot tin roof, every step could easily lead to a catastrophe.  
Manon cleared her throat. She wasn’t the most talkative person either, but she just couldn’t stand this weird silence, that had followed his patronizing monologue.

“So…” she started out, her mind not able to control her mouth anymore “Do you have any hobbies?”  
Her breath hitched in her throat, as he quickly turned his head to her in surprise. He looked at her, as if she had just proposed something very inappropriate to him, like sharing the same toothpaste, and she was afraid that this question was too personal.  
The silence that followed now, was even worse than the one before, and Manon actually thought about just exiting the car and walk home, to escape this shameful moment.

“As you might be able to imagine, as the prince of this city, I only have little time to indulge in things like… hobbies.” he suddenly informed her, as she already didn’t expect him to answer that.   
“Really?” she gasped, again, her tongue quicker than her brain “You don’t do anything besides ruling a city?”  
He was silent for another moment, and Manon feared that she had gone too far. Then he sighed.

“I like to read.”

“Read?” she croaked. He frowned at her, a thin line appearing between his eyebrows.  
“Yes.” LaCroix said, but it sounded unfamiliarly unsure for him. So he liked to read. Great! Amazing! A very nondescript hobby, but it was a start.  
“And?” The woman inquired. Reading couldn’t be his only hobby, right?   
“And?” he repeated, his voice getting that sharp undertone, she disliked.  
“No, that’s fine! I mean…” she then babbled “What exactly do you read?”

He blinked a few times, not because he was annoyed, but because he apparently thought about his next answer.  
“Anything.” He then responded “Literature from all ages… I possess books, that are older than myself.”  
“They must be very valuable!” she concluded, making him nod. “Most of them are first editions. Priceless. That’s why I can’t read the majority of them unfortunately. I fear, they might fall apart.”  
“Oh.” She made and didn’t know what to add to this. So he had this library at home of books that were that precious, that he didn’t read them anymore.

In a normal conversation, this would be the part where he would ask her about her hobbies.  
But he didn’t.

Finally the car arrived at its destination, as it came to a hold in front of Manon’s apartment.  
“Good night.” She politely called after him, as she got out of it.  
“Have a good rest.” He replied simply, and she noticed that he wasn’t even paying attention anymore.

There were a lot of thoughts that ran through her head, as she was finally under the covers of her bed. Tonight had been… interesting, but not in a good way. First this humiliating experience at the meeting, then their shopping spree and finally the drive by shooting, leading to an awkward conversation in his car, about what the prince did in his leisure time.  
There had happened too much for her to handle, to be fair.  
Manon turned to the side to look at the display of her electronic alarm clock, which showed, that it was already 4:24 am. Normally at this time of the day, she would have been sleeping tightly, but now she was wide awake.  
But then, she hadn’t gotten shot at before. 

There was another thing that left her sleepless. What he had said about humans – that they were just prey. She hadn’t seen it that way before. Fine, she had been drinking from them, but they had enjoyed it and she never killed or hurt them in any way. A bite, endless bliss, a lick of her tongue to close the wound and she was gone. But was it really that easy?  
She thought back, at how LaCroix had fed from that business woman, back at Club Confession. How he had played with her, lured her into his arms, to steal her blood. It had seemed almost like a game to him, but tonight he had shown his true colours.  
Humans were nothing to him.  
Just a tool to feed.  
This thought was scaring her.  
He had been human too, after all. Well, ages ago, but still… would she as well forget about what it meant to be human, would she be that cold hearted too one day?  
In her wildest dreams, she couldn’t imagine the Prince in his human days, back in Napoleonic France. At least that was, what she had heard from the others, the Prince had certainly never revealed his past to her, when they spoke it was usually business related or he complained about something she had done wrong. It wasn’t hard to picture him in one of those fancy uniforms with shiny leather boots and golden buttons, lots of medals pinned to his chest, but thinking of him, how he interacted with other people, that weren’t inferior to him, that he ever actually cared about someone, be it parent, sibling, friend or lover – this was almost impossible to her.  
Yes, she could see him with a beautiful woman at his side, strutting through a ballroom, her neck adorned with expensive jewellery, that he had bought her, but she figured that she was just there to compliment him.  
No, she couldn’t think of him caring about anything else that the Camarilla and his position within.


	12. Tender Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! This took FOREVER to write... I have to write two additional chapter until I reach the ones that are already prepared, haha!

As Manon entered the office the next night, she still felt uneasy. Maybe because they got shot from a driving car the other night, which she still hadn’t stomached.  
Tonight she had received an email from LaCroix, asking her to come and see him, as soon as she arrived. 

Carla again sat at the Welcome desk, her lips pursed, as she stared into her screen, humming a tune Manon knew from somewhere. She looked up as soon as she heard Manon approach her.  
“Manon!” the redheaded Toreador chortled, greeting her with a friendly smile. “How are you? I heard you picked out a lovely dress yesterday!”  
Carla was always so happy, she thought. Also, she was the only one, who asked her how she felt.   
This hit her like a punch in the stomach.  
Yes… maybe this was because she had to?  
Maybe… maybe she was just as fake as the other people around, she had encountered. This had occurred to her several times before, but she had always brushed it off, as she enjoyed the delightful banter she shared with her. But again, Carla was a vampire, a member of LaCroix’s court, and a Toreador, which meant, that she was, of course, also quite charismatic.

“Hi…” Manon muttered, passing the desk, walking straight towards the door, that lead to LaCroix’s weird staircase.   
She finally reached his office, knocking against the door, until she heard him allowing her to enter.  
As she did, she saw him sitting at his desk, the sheriff beside him, stoic and frightening, making her flinch.  
He probably considered her to be very impolite, but then – he had never made an effort to be less creepy as well! At least they could dislike each other in mutual agreement.

LaCroix made a casual gesture with his hand, which made the Sheriff leave, passing her on his way out. She noticed that he smelled really weird. Like earth and decay, something she had encountered on school trips to medieval castles.  
The Prince didn’t get up, but he closed his notebook, waiting for her to come closer.  
“Good evening!” he greeted her, as she stood in front of him, she could register the Sheriff closing the door behind him.  
“Good evening.” Manon smiled weakly at her sire, who gestured at the chair next to her, which hasn’t been there the last time, as she could recall. There was some tension in the air and she suspected that he wasn’t in a good mood. Well, he never was, but tonight he seemed especially angry.  
The Ventrue took a seat and curiously looked at her sire.  
The Prince looked back. She was a little confused, not getting what he expected of her.  
“The notes?” he finally said, making her flinch.  
Right, she should have written a summary of their meeting, but due to the events of last night, she completely forgot to do so.  
“Oh.” She made as it shot like a lightning bolt through her body.  
“You didn’t do it?” It wasn’t a question, yet a statement, as he lifted one of his eyebrows and crossed his arms in front of his chest, his face baring an unimpressed expression, one she had seen so many times on him before.  
“No…” she gave in, smiling awkwardly, like she was a little girl in school, who had forgotten to hand in her homework.  
He rolled his eyes, and she could see that he did not have much patience tonight.  
Manon swallowed hard, trying to think of anything to make it better, but she couldn’t.  
“Was this too much to ask of you?” he suddenly spat, making her wince in surprise. “I thought you had such a brilliant university degree, and yet you fail to accomplish the simplest of tasks I could give you!”  
She opened her mouth, but closed it again, not able to speak.  
Was he serious? This was more than offensive! Also it hurt like a blade, that he apparently thought of her as incompetent!  
His voice grew louder and his eyebrows were knitted together, and she could feel the rage that was about to drown her.  
“This is unacceptable, I even gave you half of the night off and still you didn’t deliver!”  
“Sebastian!” she began breathlessly still not believing his words “We almost got shot last night!”  
“This is not an excuse for laziness!” LaCroix growled and glared down at the black haired woman.  
She pressed her tongue hard against her palette to not start crying in here.  
Maybe later, like she had done so before.  
“I do have a protocol…” she whimpered, trying her best to make her voice sound steady “It’s just my raw notes, not edited whatsoever, maybe even with some typos, but…”  
“Then what are you waiting for?” he interrupted her and she quickly took her notebook out of her bag, opening it up and setting it onto her lap in a haste.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him tapping his fingers impatiently against his desk, signalling her that it would be not the best idea to keep him waiting any longer.  
She opened Outlook and sent her notes via mail as quickly as possible.  
His notebook on his desk, made a beeping sound as he received her mails. Suddenly his eyes wandered off to his screen and she could heard his finger click his mouth.  
“That will be all.” The Prince then stated, his voice calm all of the sudden, waving his other hand, not even looking up. “You can leave.”  
“Ok.” She muttered, getting up onto her shaking legs and leaving his office, all the while hoping there wasn’t anything else she had forgotten.  
Why had he been so angry tonight?   
Maybe it had something to do with what happened the last night in Beverly Hills?  
Had the sheriff managed to grab a hold of those Sabbat vampires, who had shot at them in the first place?  
She was almost used to the different moods of the Prince, which usually were laying on a scale between condescending drama queen and sullen asshole, but she had clearly never seen him as furious as he was tonight. His words before had hurt her, but there was no way she would show him that. What would he even do? Apologize? Ha! He would rather just give her one of those scornful smiles and deliver a speech how she should learn to deal with criticism and insults, all the while, while staring out of his windows. Probably he would even throw in one or two sentences about how hard it was to rule this city and how this duty rested on his shoulders alone.  
That he was a power hungry bastard, who enjoyed being atop of all the Kindred of this city, was a part that he would very likely skip in his narration.

As she entered the hallway again, Carla was still sitting at her desk.  
“Manon!” she turned her head. “We hadn’t had any chance to talk before! Have you picked up your dress already?”  
The Ventrue stopped in her tracks.   
“Yes…” she reluctantly revealed. How did she even know? Than, of course, it had been probably her who made the appointment at the boutique in the first place. Again, she thought about what her Sire had said to her on her very first day she had spent in his court.  
“Of course they are nice to you, you are the childe of their Prince!”  
It had taken her less than two days to notice that some people here, like for instance Ed Barber, who had been one of the firsts to welcome her in the new domain, were pretty fake. Was Carla two faced as well? After all, she was the only person in this office Carla actually liked, besides from Max, the Nosferatu, who dwelled in the Server Room and the Archive.  
She had been the only one so far, that seemed to be genially interested in her, but maybe this was all an act?  
“And?” Carla pulled her out of her train of thoughts. “Colour, length? Can I see it?”  
Manon licked her lips, not knowing how to put this. She wasn’t good at rejecting people, and as she was now dealing with such an charismatic woman didn’t make it easy for her.  
“I gotta go…” she mumbled, passing the desk and hurrying towards the elevator.

 

The woman got up and followed her, making Manon pacing up her speed a little.  
“Is everything alright?” she asked, as they were through the door, Manon already having pressed the button to call the elevator.  
The Ventrue exhaled loudly. She wasn’t one to go right into confrontation, but tonight she would have to do so.  
“Look, Carla…” Manon started out, looking into the redhead’s beautiful face “I know you probably have to be nice to me, because… well, you know…I am the childe of the Prince, but you don’t have to pretend that you like me…”  
“What?” Carla interrupted her, her mouth dropping open as she stared at her very offended. “You thought that it is just an act?”  
Manon swallowed and didn’t know how to respond to that.  
“I…” she began, kneading her fingers nervously, as the Toreador put her hands into her sides and tilted her head.  
“What makes you say that?” the cute woman suddenly looked really frightening and Manon wasn’t sure if she was using the discipline of Presence.  
“It’s just… why would you… be nice to me at all, if it wasn’t for the prince?” she stuttered, taking a step back.  
“Because I just like you!” Carla exclaimed, rolling her green eyes, but a small smile appeared on her face “Manon, you are the first woman to work here in decades who hasn’t a stick shoved up her ass!”  
“What?” the Ventrue made in disbelief and Carla took Manon’s hands into hers.  
“Yes… I like having you around. You are pretty nice and fun to work with.” She confessed, her heart shaped lips curling up.  
Suddenly Manon felt very embarrassed.  
“I am sorry…” she muttered, trying to avoid her eyes “It’s just… I don’t really know any other kindred at the court and most of them… they seem so terribly fake…I…just don’t know what to do…”  
Carla snorted of laughter and pressed her fingers a little tighter around the other ones.  
“Apology accepted.” She sighed without remorse “And I know exactly what you mean… Are you free tonight?”  
Manon looked up into her pretty face.  
“I think so, why?”  
“Great!” Carla cheered and pulled her long with her. “You should meet more people and have contacts beside from work! Tonight there is the premiere of a play a very dear friend of mine wrote, want to join me?”  
It had been ages, since Manon had been to a play.   
“Really?” she clapped her hands excitedly. But then she thought of something “Am I even… you know, allowed there? After all, I am not officially introduced into the domain yet…”  
Carla laughed. “Oh honey, don’t worry! This isn’t a Camarilla event!”

It was almost midnight, when Manon and Carla arrived at the little cinema that was somewhere in Silver Lake. The Ventrue had put on one of her fancier cocktail dresses, happy to finally have an occasion to wear it. From the outside the building looked almost deserted, first she was sure that it had been closed down quite a while ago, but as soon as they passed through the doors, she noticed that she had been wrong.

They stepped into the entrance area of a theatre that was probably from the 1930s.   
The first things she noticed were the smell of blood and the low music, that was humming in the background.  
Everything was adorned with gold and velvet, the floor covered by a carpet with a typical pattern for that time, the walls were out of black marble, interlaces by golden veins and huge chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, which was adorned by plasters in art deco shapes.  
The whole room was crowded with people, most of them elegantly dressed, entangled in idle conversations.  
There was greenish light illuminating the atrium, in which they were currently standing, giving the whole scenery a very dramatic aura. 

“Wow!” Carla laughed “I didn’t expect half of Hollywood to show up!”   
“Half of Hollywood is here?” Manon hissed, hoping she wouldn’t do anything embarrassing tonight that could endanger her entry into the domain.  
“Don’t be shy, let me introduce you to some of my friends!” she offered, waving at a blond woman in a golden dress and an obscenely big fur overthrow.

It was like the first time she had been to the Venture Tower, as Manon was forced to shake almost every single hand in this theatre. Most of them were Toreadors and all of them were friends with Carla. It was amazing how many people the redhead apparently knew. They were friendly but deep down Manon was unsettled. In some way they seemed so otherworldly, like they were demons hiding behind porcelain masks.

Carla also told her more about her Clan. They were not ordered in a certain hierarchy, but consisted of two guilds; The Artistes and the Poseurs. The Artistes were the painters, the musicians, the kindred who were able to craft something that would endure the centuries, the others were called Poseurs, which were mostly failed artists or the ones who considered their body as a piece of art. All in all they stood in such a high contrast to the ways of the controlling Ventrue. But as Manon asked Carla to which guild she belonged, the Toreador quickly changed the topic. 

“I thought the Prince wanted to introduce me into the domain?” Manon asked jokingly, after Carla had introduced her to lovely couple, consisting of a two women who painted portraits of each other for three centuries now.   
“Well…” Carla lowered her voice “Many of the people here technically aren’t members of his domain.”  
Manon almost gasped. “What do you mean?”  
The Prince acted so powerful all the time, she had thought that at least most of the vampires would follow him.  
“Los Angeles used to be an Anarch State, before the Camarilla came here.” She explained. “That’s why the Anarch population is rather large here.”  
Suddenly they were interrupted by a bell.  
“Oh, it’s beginning!” Carla grabbed the other ones arm and pulled her with her, through double doors that lead into a darkened auditorium. They sat down on velvet padded seats, the rows quickly filling with the other guests. In front of them, there was a stage with a dusty red curtain, hiding what was behind it. Manon was curious about the play, after all, what kind of story would an immortal have to tell?

A beautiful women took a seat next to Manon, crossing her legs. Even though it was obvious that she was a vampire, as her whole posture and mesmerizing aura gave her away, her skin still had a beautiful, dark complexion. She wore a dark green dress, that was glittering in the dim light and brushed a pedicured hand through her dark, curly hair.

“Trish!” Carla next to her, suddenly called out. The woman turned her head and her perfect shaped lips curled into a toothy grin, as she realized the Toreador.  
“Carla!” she spoke with a rich voice, her obsidian eyes lingering on the redhead. “How do you do?”

 

“I’d like you to meet somebody!”  
“Manon, this is Patricia, a very dear friend of mine!”  
“Trish, this is Manon, she has just been embraced into Clan Ventrue.”

“Oh, a neonate! Nice to meet you, Manon!” Patricia’s voice was equally as endearing as her looks and as Manon shook her hand, she almost pulled it back in shock, as it was warm, like the hand of a human.  
As the Toreador noticed her confused face, she had to laugh.  
“Oh, honey! You look like you saw a ghost!” she giggled, letting her soft hand slide out of Manon’s fingers.  
Manon smiled back in fascination.  
“Your fingers are so warm, how…” the Ventrue started out and Patricia brushed her hair over her shoulder, showing her perfect white teeth.  
“Haven’t you heard of the blush of life?” she then asked Manon, who shook her head.  
The woman leaned forward and lowered her voice a little before she continued.  
“Well…basically you use your blood and send it through your system to… appear alive and warm up your skin…” she told her “And if you touch my hand right now, you will feel that I have the body temperature of a human now.”  
“Extraordinary!” Manon gasped “How long does this last?”  
“About an hour.” She shrugged at her her and turned his hand to hold it under Manon’s nose. “Now feel my wrist.”  
Manon hesitated for a moment, before she put two fingers onto her wrist, where she could see the blue veins underneath her dark skin and was surprised when she could feel a light pulse.  
“Oh god…” fascinated she looked into her face again. “And what is it for?” she asked curiously, as the Toreador withdrawed her hand.  
“Oh, most of us use it for sex!” she bluntly said, winking at the younger one, but before Manon could answer anything to that, the lights went out and the curtains opened. The show began.

It was a farce. From time to time she looked over to her fellow vampires, who seemed to enjoy it greatly. Manon herself also had to admit, that this play was entertaining but she had never seen anything like it. The costumes were amazing, the backdrop behind the actors was beautifully made, there even were a few songs, sung by a sweet, little woman with an enchanting voice, that managed to make goose bumps appear on Manon’s arm. The theme of the play was the life of Cain, the first vampire, but it quickly drifted off into modern times. When a blond actor came on stage, carrying the door of a New York Taxi with him, he received a roaring applaud by the audience and she couldn’t help but to join it.  
After what seemed far too short, the curtains closed and the show was over.  
“Holy hell!” Manon turned her head to Carla, both of them still clapping “This was brilliant!”  
The Toreador smiled. “Told you! Let’s go backstage and let me introduce you to Ernest!”  
“Ernest?” Manon wanted to know.  
“Yes, my friend, who wrote the play!” she explained, as the lights went on and the actors returned to the stage to bow. “He is the one with the green jacket!”  
As Manon scrutinized the actors closer, she noticed that the man in the green jacket was in fact the one, who had carried the taxi door around before, which made her grin.  
He stepped forward with a bright smile and made a last deep bow, which made his golden curls bob a little.  
“Thank you!” he raised his voice, silencing the vampires in the audience. “It was a pleasure entertaining you tonight, my fellow damned!”  
He paused for a moment, waiting for everyone to be completely silent.  
“I fear I am not the best with words that leave my lips, but I appreciate your presence. I had to realise this play, because else the ideas would have flown out of my ears!”

Manon frowned. His words were in fact very weird, but everyone seemed to go with it, as if they were used to him speaking such nonsense.

“I wish you a pleasant night and may your feet be quicker than the sun!” he bowed one last time, leaving the stage, accompanied by the crowd clapping.


	13. Our World in Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! The next chapter!... Gosh, it got so long this time :)  
> Anyway, enjoy reading, I hope I can publish the next one quicker.  
> Here is my mood song for this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZAb8QlyT__E

They were backstage. Carla lead her through a narrow hallway and it seemed like she had been here before, which probably was the case. There were different white doors in the walls, most of them were closed, but whenever they passed one that was open, Carla looked inside and greeted the people in there, which were mostly the actors that had starred in the play.   
“Are we even supposed to be here?” Manon hissed at her friend, which in turn laughed.  
“No!” she answered “But no one cares!”  
She stopped in front of a closed door and knocked a few times.  
It took a moment for someone to open and a dark blonde head appeared in the gap between the door and the frame.

“Carla, my dearest friend!” the man purred, making the other one laugh. “It is always such a pleasure of sensing your delicate presence here. Come in!”  
Sensing? How did he sense her presence? Manon was a little confused. There was a discipline she had been reading of, called the Auspex. Maybe it was about that?  
He now fully opened the door, making Carla enter and Manon follow her just reluctantly.  
When she was inside, she looked around curiously. Clearly this was the place, where he had been getting ready before the plan. There was a huge vanity, framed by light bulbs with tons of different make up palettes placed on it. A vase with fresh flowers was standing on a little side table, along with a wine bottle that probably contained vitae.

“Sweet Talker!” Carla grinned, sitting down at a red velvet sofa.  
“You know I am!” the man answered. Manon took a moment to scrutinize him. He was quite tall, had the pale skin of a kindred and golden rings in his pierced ears. He wore tight high waisted leather pants with a torn white shirt, that looked like it was from the 18th century and over it he had a Napoleonic military style green jacket with golden buttons, that, according to its obscenely prominent shoulder pads was from the 1980s. All in all she thought that he was dressed like a mix between David Bowie as the Goblin King and Adam ant, which was an unusual but very aesthetic style.  
She saw him picking up a paper cup with a straw that bared the logo of a big fast food chain and taking a sip. The liquid she saw being sucked up the straw was red.  
Suddenly his attention turned to Manon.  
“How are you?” he asked quite bluntly, but his face seemed honestly curious.  
“I would like you to meet my dear friend from work!”Carla introduced her “This is Manon Lovett, recently of Clan Ventrue!”   
“Hello!” Manon said, reaching out her hand for him to shake with a friendly grin.   
“Oh.” The man made. The Ventrue noticed that his eyes had different colours. One was blue, while the other one was green. He took her hand and tilted his head, his eyes seemingly glued to her, which made her feel a little uncomfortable.  
“Ernest is what they call me.” He then introduced himself “Ernest Fairweather. I am a son of the clan of the moon!”  
Clan of the moon… Oh.  
She had read about the Malkavians before, it was the clan of madmen, every single one of them suffered from a psychic derangement, making them unpredictable and therefore often highly dangerous. She had never thought that she would meet one in Los Angeles. But then the vampires she had met before had almost exclusively been Ventrues, with a few exceptions of course.   
The man gifted her a genuine smile. “Say, daughter of the Ivory Tower, how has my play pleased you?” She didn’t know exactly, what he meant by this, but decided to play along. “Yes, it had pleased me very well!”  
“It pleases me to hear that!” Ernest lifted both of his eyebrows and let go of her hand.  
“It is always wondrous to see one of your kind being interested in the art. No offense, but your clan isn’t known for embracing lovers of culture into their midst.”  
Manon laughed dryly, knowing exactly what he meant.  
“Especially since it had been the ivory prince, who robbed you of your soul.”  
Manon gasped in surprise. How did he know who her sire was? He didn’t say his name, but ivory prince was pretty fitting, she thought.  
“Oh, I am sorry!” he seemed to notice what he had done. “It happens some times.” He pointed at his head, Carla giggling in the background.

“These are strange times, Manon!” he took a sip out of a paper cup with a straw “I hope you are prepared for what is to come!”  
Manon shook her head. She didn’t know about anything.  
“It will not happen today, not tomorrow, but soon an something old will come on a Gehenna wind, carried by the water.”  
Carla sighed.  
“Not your Gehenna prophecies again!” she laughed “You are scaring her!”  
“Maybe I am.” Ernest gave in, lifting an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling upwards “But sometimes being scared isn’t so bad at all.”

 

Manon felt excited and silently counted the hours she had left until the ceremony, where her sire would introduce her into the domain. She had thought about Ernest’s words for quite some time. They had made no sense to her, but there was something about them, that she couldn’t forget. But then, he was a Malkavian and not everything they did, made sense.

Then it was finally Friday night.  
The ceremony would take place in some Palais, a place where humans usually would celebrate balls. Maybe this was, what it would seem to outsiders, that saw the huge limousines and fancy dressed people entering the building. Just a very exclusive ball – Private circle, of course.

The Prince had given her the night off until the event to prepare. She had read through her notes dozen of times and had memorized the traditions of the Camarilla word by word.  
To an outsider she would have probably seemed like a maniac, as she had pranced around her apartment, waiting for her nails to try, while muttering the full name of her sire under her breath, that she didn’t forget all of his dreadful middle names.

LaCroix’s driver was going to pick her up any minute. As her doorbell rang, she double checked her appearance in the mirror for probably the hundredths time this evening. She looked into the face of a stranger. The woman who stared at her looked unfamiliar, so elegant and lofty in her overpriced designer dress, her satin hair that was like liquid midnight and her eyes that as she realized with fright, also bared that eerily glow by now, she had seen on the prince before.  
Manon swallowed hard and nodded at herself.  
It was unsettling how much she had changed during the last months.

After she took a seat in the car, she wrote a message to Carla.  
To her relief the Toreador would be there tonight. That would perhaps ease her excitement a little, but probably not, as the rest of the domain would be present as well.

She had never been to this place before, why should she? This place was fancier than all the places she had been in her life before. Even a tad too fancy for her taste, with its golden decorations, polished marble floors, huge winged doors, shimmering crystal chandeliers and opulent mirrors everywhere. It looked like the background of a period drama movie, which was probably the exact reason why her sire had picked out this place for her ceremony. As far as she knew, he was a child of the revolution, probably enjoying the decadent styles that were introduced by the Empire movement and the neoclassicism.

After entering the building, she was greeted by a young looking ghoul, already expecting her.  
He led her into a room, containing a huge vanity and a sofa. It looked much like the rooms the singers had in opera houses to be prepared for their performances, but just a lot bigger with a glass door, that lead to a balcony. On a little table she saw a silver bowl filled with ice, with a bottle that contained red liquid in it, standing next to a silver tray with crystal glasses. Did they serve the blood like fine champagne? It almost made her giggle at how “extra” Ventrues were.  
The ghoul closed the door behind him, leaving her completely alone. What to do, what to do?  
There was quite some time left until she had to swear in front of everyone and their grandmothers that she would be a nice girl and respect the Camarilla. Easy enough. This was not rocket science.  
As Manon stepped outside, she took a deep breath and inhaled the chilly air of the night. It was the calm before the storm. In less than half an hour she would be presented to the whole domain, asking to take the place LaCroix had allotted to her, one of which herself she didn’t know what exactly it was about.  
The woman closed her eyes and leaned against the small metal fence. She had not been that excited since her graduation ceremony. Well, there she hadn’t been as excited as now, after all back then there weren’t any vampires present.

A polite cough pulled her out of her thoughts. Quickly she spun around and saw her sire standing in front of her, still inside of the room. She hadn’t heard him enter.  
“Good evening.” He spoke, a tiny smile on his lips, which seemed forced as usual. Manon was all flustered up. “Good night!” she yelped, not able to contain her nervousness.   
He looked gorgeous, she had to admit. The prince was dressed in a well-fitting tailcoat, out of an expensive looking black material, with a white shirt, matching waistcoat and a bow tie, that was perfectly tied. His hair was swept back, as usual and he even managed to contain this one stubborn streak of hair that sometimes fell into his forehead.  
“How are you?”   
This was probably the first time he asked her this. How she was? Miserable.  
“Ok, I am ok… very ok…” she stuttered, failing to conceal what she was truly feeling.   
“Something to drink?” he asked, walking over the bottle of blood.  
“Yes!” she said a little too loud “I mean, yes. I would really like that… I mean, if it is fit for me, if not… than I would have to decline…”  
“What is going on Manon, you seem to be in high spirits?” he asked, an annoyed tone swinging in his voice, as he opened the bottle.  
“I…” Manon hummed, staring onto a spot on the ground “I can’t do this…”  
“Why?” she heard him ask. He had approached her, a glass in his hand, that was already filled with sweet vitae. The woman bit her lower lip, not sure how to put it.  
“I can’t… I am just very nervous, and…” she then confessed, looking to the side, her arms wrapping themselves around her torso, as if she wanted to protect herself.  
She suddenly felt his cold index finger against her chin, softly pushing her head up, so she had to face him.  
“Eye Contact.” He reminded her, but his voice sounded so soft, it was almost uncanny.  
She sighed. “See? I can’t even do this right!”  
“You can do this.” He spoke, looking her deep into the eyes, lifting an eyebrow. “You have to.”  
This was not very calming.  
“Do you know, how women always dream about their wedding day?” she then started out, making him frown a little confused, after he had handed her the glass “Well, I never planned on doing that, because I hate being the centre of attention!” She took a big sip, hoping the red liquid would calm her nerves. It did, if only just a little bit.  
The prince shook his head, seemingly not understanding what her struggle was about.  
“Wait!” Suddenly he turned around to get something, that had been lying on the table, where their glasses had been standing before. It hadn’t been there before, it seems like he had brought it with him when he had arrived. “I wanted you to have this.”   
It was a thin, black box. His back hid, what was in it, as he opened it.  
“Turn to the mirror.” He ordered her, which she did without thinking about it twice, putting the glass down at the vanity. She saw his reflection, as he stepped behind her, in his hands a beautiful necklace. It was dainty, but an eye catcher, being adorned with black diamonds, that were beautifully arranged to look like dark starts.  
His fingers slightly grazed her pale skin, as he put it around her neck, closing it at the back.  
The jewellery laid now perfect on her collarbone, the black crystals standing in contrast to her milk white skin. 

Manon gasped silently as her eyes were mesmerized by the shimmering necklace with its black gems that were as dark as the night. This was probably worth a fortune, no way he would spend that much money for her to wear it for just one night.  
“Did you rent this from a jewellery store?” she dared to ask him, holding his gaze in the mirror.   
She saw him scoff amusedly, as he lifted one eyebrow.  
“Please!” he shook his head, turning around to approach the side table again for “As if I would ever rent something… no. It is yours now.”  
Manon pressed her fingers against the dainty necklace, turning to him.  
She could only see his back, as he poured a glass for himself.  
“I can’t accept-“ she started out, but he interrupted her, as soon as he had noticed where this was going.  
“You can!” he spoke in his firm voice “And you will.”  
The woman didn’t dare to ask him the question that was burning in her brain at first, but then she pulled herself together.  
“How much… how much did you spend on that?”  
LaCroix turned around, the glass between his fingers, giving her an irritated look, as if she had asked something really inappropriate.  
“I am not going to tell you this, as you can imagine.” He simply answered.  
“Au chanté” he clinked his glass against hers, drinking from it.  
“Thank you…” she muttered, taking another huge sip out of the glass. The blood again instantly rushed through her veins, making her shudder.  
They were silent for a moment, she caressed the fortune that was now around her neck, until Manon continued.  
“It is probably worth an apartment…”  
LaCroix sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes.  
“Manon.” He started out “Get used to it. You are Ventrue after all.”

 

Finally it was time.  
Her sire led her through huge doors into the ballroom, that was already crowded by elegantly dressed vampires. Her arm was hooked into his and she was very glad for it, as she feared she would collapse due to her nervousness. Beforehand he had gone through the whole process with her multiple times, telling her, when she had to kneel, when she had to stand, when she had to talk. The kneeling part seemed very weird to her, but in her current state, she wasn’t really able to question it. Some of the people here were familiar, as she had seen most of them at the Tower, but then there were some, who were strange to her.  
There was a group of vampires, all of them completely dressed in scarlet red. This must be the Tremere, she figured, the blood mages. She had never actually met one since her embrace, but she had read a lot about them.

The last time she had made such a public appearance was, when she graduated from her boarding school. She had been younger back then and she hadn’t been alone. Also her Mum had been there. Tears started to form in the corners of her eyes, as she thought back to that day. There her Mum had been sitting, having a piece of plastic in her nose, that was connected to an oxygen tank, that was on a stroller. She had worn a head wrap, because she had lost almost all of her hair at that point due to chemo. Seeing her skinny figure sitting in the crowd had been a shock for Manon, but even though she had been sick for quite a while, she had to come to Manon’s graduation ceremony, seemingly overjoyed as her headmaster had given the young lady her diploma. It had been four years already, but she still missed her mother dearly. Now she was alone on this earth. Well, almost. But could she even consider anyone she had met the last months family? Carla was a good friend, true, but she couldn’t tell, if they would ever become closer than what they were having now. And the Prince? He was her sire, he had gifted her with immortality and eternal youth, his blood was running through her veins. But knowing him, she figured that she shouldn’t interpret too much into it. Why had he even sired her, she wondered. Did he need a childe? He seemed to be happy on his own. Maybe this was just a thing older vampires did. Like some humans who just have a baby at some point in their lives, because it is “the next logical thing to do”. Raising a family for many people after all was the respected and accepted way to continue their lives. 

“Have you noticed how all eyes are on you?” he whispered to her, pulling her out of her train of thoughts, as he led her through the ballroom to the seat that was reserved for the prince of the domain. She would have to honour to sit to his right.

“I try not to take notice.” She sighed and had a hard time not looking at the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Claude and Carla watching the ceremony.   
LaCroix chuckled darkly next to her and she tightened the grip on his arm as he pulled her a little closer.  
“Enjoy this, fledgling. This is just the beginning.”  
This didn’t really help.   
“Keep your head up. You are Ventrue.” He reminded her, probably already noticing how much she shook. As if he could read her mind, he put his hand on top of hers, trying to calm her down. She didn’t know why, but it worked.  
“Besides… have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he then suddenly murmured into her ear discretely. Manon almost choked. She was not used to compliments of that sort, especially not from LaCroix. He had done so this one time, which had been pretty sloppy, but now, when he whispered in into her ear, it made her knees shake. 

LaCroix came to a hold and turned around in front of the two seats, facing the crowd.  
“My fellow Kindred.” He began, his voice rich and so sure of himself, as if he was born to do this “I thank you for attending this gathering tonight, as the occasion is a very pleasant one. I am going to officially introduce my first childe into this domain.”  
He let go of her arm and took a step to the side. Manon almost panicked, how could he leave her alone at this point? The Prince sat down at his seat and the look he gave her signalled Manon that now it was the time for her to kneel down. Stupid Camarilla shit, why would she have to even kneel down? Or was this something similar to receiving knight hood? After all the Ventrues used to embrace Knights and Kings at some point in history, so this theory wasn’t farfetched at all.  
“My childe, Manon Désirée Antoinette Lovett.” He started out and the woman couldn’t remember, if anybody had pronounced her name in such a majestic manner as he had just done. “You got embraced into Clan Ventrue. Do you share our value and are ready to bare the responsibilities and the burden that comes with it?”  
Manon cleared her throat nervously.  
“I do, my Prince.” She stated and to her surprise her voice was actually audible and not a shy croak, as she had feared. Out of reflex she wanted to look down, but then she remembered that the eye contact was important. It was hard to hold his gaze, but she managed it nevertheless. Maybe she was finally becoming a proper Ventrue after all?  
“Are you willing to follow the rules of the Camarilla, the organisation that is the base of our society?” he continued.  
Manon stared into his blue eyes and took a deep breath.  
“I am, my Prince.”  
“What are the Traditions of the Camarilla.” LaCroix then asked her and Manon began to recite what she had learned word by word for the past nights:

“The First Tradition: The Masquerade  
Thou shall not reveal thy true nature to those not of the Blood.  
Doing such shall renounce thy claims of Blood.

The Second Tradition: The Domain  
Thy domain is thine own concern.  
All others owe thee respect while in it.  
None may challenge thy word while in thy domain.”

Manon didn’t recognize her voice as her own, but it didn’t matter after all. She still looked at her sire, who sat on his throne rather stoic.

“The Third Tradition: The Progeny  
Thou shall only Sire another with the permission of thine Elder.  
If thou createst another without thine Elder's leave, both thou and thy Progeny shall be slain.

The Fourth Tradition: The Accounting  
Those thou create are thine own children.  
Until thy Progeny shall be Released, thou shall command them in all things.  
Their sins are thine to endure.

The Fifth Tradition: The Hospitality  
Honor one another's domain.  
When thou comest to a foreign city, thou shall present thyself to the one who ruleth there.  
Without the word of acceptance, thou art nothing.

The Sixth Tradition: The Destruction  
Thou art forbidden to destroy another of thy kind.  
The right of destruction belongeth only to thine Elder.  
Only the Eldest among thee shall call the Blood Hunt.”

As she had finished, the next thing she registered was applause. Manon exhaled in relief. A little smile had sneaked its way onto the Prince’s lips and he gestured her to get up again. He did as well and approached her with ceremonial slow steps.  
He briefly nodded at her, which was her signal. The vow!

Now here came the hard part.  
“Prince Sebastian Baptise Alphonse Yves Jules LaCroix” she said loudly. Were these all of his names? Had she forgotten anything? No, this had seemed to be all of them. “You are my Prince and my sire, I will be a devoted student as I know that you will do your best to guide me.”  
This was terribly corny, but that was what the books said. She had read different versions of this vow, but they had been cringier than this one.

“You are my fledgling and I am your sire. Our lives are intertwined now for all eternity.” He spoke clearly. “I place you before the Camarilla as my childe and as my responsibility.”   
LaCroix stated and Manon tried her best to ignore all the lingering eyes on her.  
Suddenly he leaned forward and pressed a quick and chaste kiss onto her cheek, that made her breath hitch for a moment. She shivered slightly, as his cold lips came in contact with her skin and he was so close to her, that it had become unbearable. Suddenly she realized how this was more like a weird wedding ceremony, than anything else. But then she was glad, that it was finally over.

Right after her ceremony she was asked to leave, so the Primogen could talk about her performance in private. It seemed odd, but it was a tradition and to be frank, Manon was glad to be at home again. The thought of spending any more time at this fancy parlais with all the people who had witnessed her introduction sent shivers down her spine. Manon was an introvert – a high functioning introvert, nevertheless. She could talk to people and many considered her very charming, but social interaction tended to exhaust her and so she was always glad when she could return to her place, after a long day- or night of being amongst people.  
With a sigh Manon fell onto her bed, still in her elegant gown. She would need to put it back into its bag and hang it up inside of her walking closet, but just not yet. The blinds of her apartment were closed, like always, so there was no hurry in preparing for the daytimes rest.  
She just felt so happy right now. Her introduction had been successful; she had been able to recite all the traditions that were being held high by the Camarilla perfectly. 

Absently, she touched her cheek, where he had kissed her. She knew, that it had been part of the introduction, that it had been just symbolic, but… to her own confusion, it had flustered her up immensely. 

From the start Manon had to admit to herself, that she was massively attracted to him. He was blond, pale, well dressed, eloquent, had a beautiful face and good manners, so it was only natural for her. But on the other hand, he was a 200 year old vampire and she didn’t even know how much of his attractiveness, she could blame on the discipline of Presence, which often came naturally to Kindred, who were skilled at it and was often just a side effect without them even noticing. Regardless of what it was, it had made her legs tremble more than once. Her fingers touched the diamond necklace, remembering how he had put it around her neck before.

She had worked long enough with him to be aware of his flaws, and boy, did he have a lot; he was moody, grumpy and condescending, and could be an awful asshole at times. His disrespect for humans had shocked her a bit. Even if she could look past all of this, there other things she had to consider:

Whatever it was, that she thought she would feel for him, it would never have any future.  
He was the prince, he was far too important for this and Manon was – nobody. Just a freshly hatched fledgling, new to this domain and new to this life of immortality.  
In addition was he her sire and she didn’t know if the bond they had would even allow something like that. Maybe he even had just fatherly feelings towards her, which Manon considered very gross to be quite frank.

But in all her honesty Manon also had Daddy Issues and a terrible taste in men, so this was also a factor which played a huge part in her supposedly attraction to the Prince.  
It was true, she had never been on good terms with her father. In fact she had been very angry with him for all the years he had neglected her, putting his new family over her, and after a certain incident, which had broken her heart, she had stopped talking to him all together. Not that it mattered to him. She could just imagine that he hadn’t noticed, that his oldest daughter hasn’t spoken to him for years now, or worse, he didn’t care.

Her Mum had been such a nice and caring person, her father had been detached and egoistical at times. She still wondered why her mother had married him in the first place. Manon remembered one incident at 12 years old, when she had returned from school with a bad mark on a Latin vocabulary test. She hadn’t studied for it, because she had honestly forgot about the examination completely, so five of the eight asked words were wrong. The teacher had asked her to have the test signed by one of her parents and so she had shyly approached her father, because her mother had been visiting her aunt in France at the time. When she had shown him the exam, he had snatched the paper out of her shaking fingers, looked at it and then gave the little girl a piercing slap across her face, that made her instantly cry.  
“You stupid, lazy brat!” he had yelled at her and then he proceeded to walk up into her room, she following him in panic, still holding her hand against her red cheek. On her desk, there was her sketch book, because back then she had started to draw, encouraged by her mother. There were pieced in it Manon had been proud of, and her Dad had taken it and ripped it apart in front of her eyes.  
“Until your marks aren’t getting better, you are not allowed to draw!” he had simply said, dropping the ripped book onto the floor.  
She shuddered at the old memory. This had been one worst incident of that sort, it didn’t happen often and this was the one and only time he had actually physically destroyed something that meant a lot to her, but his strictness had probably shaped the kind of relationships she would have with men from then on. She even at one point had dated someone whom she later realized was just like her father, which creeped her out and from that on, she payed close attention that she would never make that mistake again.

But… LaCroix wasn’t like her father… at least she thought so. They did have things in common however. Both were powerful, her father was in the position of a CEO as well, they both were emotionally cold, they both had a very blasé demeanour and they both had two faces.  
One of them was a bloodsucking monster and the other one was her sire.  
Manon chuckled bitterly at her own joke, suddenly feeling the blind and naked anger, she hadn’t felt in a long time. After their parents had divorced, her relationship with her father had improved – mostly because then he literally didn’t give a shit about her grades again – or about her for all that mattered. Then he had married that other woman and completely forgot about her. When she had graduated from her boarding school, he couldn’t be bothered to show up at the ceremony, he didn’t even write her or anything, even if she somehow managed to be top of her class. Not a word of praise from him. 

Reluctantly she undressed, putting the expensive things she had worn tonight into her closet with care, feeling the events of this night taking their toll on her.  
She was dead tired, as she stepped under the shower, feeling the hot water flowing down her body and trying to think about something different than her father.  
Again she remembered the kiss. 

When she returned from the bathroom, she picked up her phone and saw that she had one unread message. Curiously she pressed the icon with the small envelope. Probably it was from Carla, telling her how great her dress had looked or something like that. Manon figured that the Toreador was still at the party, dancing the night away. But the message wasn’t from Carla, it was from her sire.

 _” “You did very well tonight.  
I wish you a good days rest and look forward of seeing you tomorrow at work.  
Sebastian.” _”

Dear god…  
She read the message multiple times, before pressing the phone against her chest and falling back onto the mattress.   
“You did very well tonight…”  
This trivial sentence meant the world to her.   
Her sire was pleased! She wasn’t a disappointment!   
Before she fell asleep, there was only one thought on her mind; How ridiculous it had been to compare him to her father.


	14. After Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a quick update, I can't believe it myself :)  
> Enjoy!

Manon shivered, as she entered the office the next Monday, LaCroix already waiting for her at his desk.  
“You are wet.” He commented, after he looked up.  
“I know…” she answered as she closed the door behind her “it’s raining outside.”  
As they were so high up, the raindrops were banging against the window, so there was no way he could have missed the momentarily state of the weather.  
He sighed. “Don’t you own an umbrella?”  
“The rain surprised me on my way here… also I don’t use umbrellas.” She said and added without thinking about it further “I like being wet.”  
LaCroix lifted an eyebrow, puckering his handsome mouth, probably silently judging her.  
“I don’t mean…” she started out, pushing a strand of wet hair behind her ear, as she put her bag down. “I never liked umbrellas and… I suppose I just really love the rain…” Thunder roared in the distance.  
“Love?” he repeated, slightly shaking his head, rolling his eyes.  
“Yes…” she started out “I … really love how it smells, how it sounds … how it feels against my skin…”  
He just threw a disbelieving glance at her. “I suppose, I don’t need to understand this…”  
Ashamed she looked down, where drops of water had already landed on the wooden floor.  
“Wait.” He sighed and got up from his chair only to disappear into a door, she had noticed before, but didn’t know where it led to.  
After a while he returned with a pile of dry clothes and a white towel.  
“Dry yourself up.” He ordered as he handed her the pile. She noticed that the clothes were in fact a pair of grey slacks and a white shirt and that they were his. Her eyes widened a little, but she tried to keep her cool.  
“Thank you…” she muttered, and put the clothes down on one of the sofas, to rub her hair dry with the towel.  
“We have work to do, and if I send you home again to change, we won’t be finishing it tonight.” He drawled and an annoyed tone tinted his words. Manon swallowed.  
“Do you live here?” she suddenly asked him, her eyes wandering to the door.  
It took him a while to respond.  
“No.” he plainly said “I just have private quarters here, in case I work until dawn.”  
She nodded, not knowing what to add anymore, as she slipped out of her wet blazer.

He walked back to his desk and demonstrative turned around to look out of the window.   
“Please tell me, when you are finished!” he asked and his voice sounded a little sharper than usual, clearly he was being uncomfortable with her changing in his office. Once more, she remembered that he was from a different period in history, from a time, where it was probably considered scandalous to see a women’s ankle.  
Manon took the hint and quickly slipped out of her skirt and blouse and peeled her legs out of her wet tights.  
She quickly put on his shirt and the pants, that were both by Valentino and far too big for her and put her damp hair up into a bun.  
“I completely forgot to congratulate you to your introduction.” He suddenly said, his back still turned to her “Of course you had success.”  
“Oh!” Manon made, rolling the sleeves of the too big shirt up “That is a relief to hear!...Thanks.”  
Her breath hitched for a moment, as she noticed that the clothes, he had given her, smelled just like him.  
How was she supposed to work like that, dressed in items that carried his mesmerizing scent?  
“I’m… dressed.” She informed him, after she had folded her wet clothing and placed them on the towel, that now laid on the floor.  
The Prince turned around. She wasn’t sure, but she could swear that his eyes softened for a moment, when he turned his gaze back to her, but perhaps this just had been her imagination.   
“Can we start?” this wasn’t a question, because he immediately took a seat at his desk again and began pressing some keys on his keyboard. She heard thunder in the distance and had to concentrate not to stare out of the window.  
Being that high up had certain merits to it.   
She was almost brave enough to ask the Prince if they could open up a window, so she could smell the rain again, but then she decided it would be better not to test his patience any further and opened up her laptop, sitting down at one of his sofas.  
Quickly, she opened the file, that was already saved on her Desktop.   
“So, I have done the calculations about the deal with Avalon.” She then spoke, scrolling down the excel sheet “We can offer them a solution, that will mostly benefit us, but without… bending any existing laws in Eastern Europe…”  
They wanted to export their weird toys to eastern Europe and it was clear that both of their parties would accept illegal matters as well, which was something she didn’t feel comfortable with, so she tried hard to come up with something that wouldn’t violate the law.  
“Is that so?” he asked, looking up from his screen. “Let me see.”  
“I have already sent you an email.” Manon explained, as she was in the process of getting up.

Suddenly lightning illuminated the night sky and it was immediately followed by a roar of thunder, that shook through the room, when the power went off and the two vampires were surrounded by complete darkness.  
A dying yelp escaped her throat and she jerked back into the pillows of the sofa.  
“Well, I believe we can forget working tonight.” She heard his voice after a while, locating him next to the window, after her eyes had gotten used to the dark. “The whole block had gone out!” In the spare moonlight she could see his silhouette as she approached him, before staring out into the night. In the distance there were electronic lights, but it seemed that the blackout had affected almost the whole downtown area.  
“Are we in any danger?” she spoke what had been on her mind. The prince chuckled humourlessly, as she noticed how the door of the office was opened and somebody entered the room. Even in the darkness she could recognize the bulky figure of the sheriff, who silently positioned himself at the entrance of the room, the prince not even acknowledging it. Manon still felt uncomfortable when the brute was in the same room as her. He never talked and never even flinched, as if he was made out of marble.  
“So what now?” Manon turned back to her sire, unwillingly taking a step closer, like always when the sheriff was around. “Do we wait until the power goes back on? My laptop is fully charged, so I don’t mind if we continue.”  
As her eyes have already accommodated to the darkness, she could make him out shrugging his shoulders.  
“You are quite eager to present me your plan, aren’t you?” he drawled “But I don’t object.” She noticed how he moved through the dark, the light of her laptop being a little source of light, as he sat down next to her, looking at her screen.  
“How come that my notebook went out?” he suddenly asked, Manon turning her head to him.  
She thought about it for a moment. “Did you have your power cord plugged in?”  
“Yes?”  
“That’s why it went out. It probably was a short circuit.” She explained.  
“But I always have it plugged in.” he told her, which made her cringe.  
“Yeah, don’t do that.” She started out, brushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear.  
“Why not?” the blond wanted to know.  
“Having your notebook always connected to power will eventually destroy your battery.”

He lifted an eyebrow, apparently deciding not to question her about the matter further.  
“So… the plan.” He then reminded her.

The sheriff was still in the room, but despite of that, she managed to go through her plan with LaCroix, who asked some questions, when he wanted to get into detail at some parts, but apart from that, it went really well and he seemed to be convinced, that her proposal for Avalon could really work out fine.  
“If your calculations are right, this could save us a lot of money.” He told her, his index finger resting on his lips as he looked at her sheet, frowning slightly.  
“They are…” she confirmed, when suddenly the power went back on. She gasped, pressing her eyes shut, because she was suddenly blinded by the bright light.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw how the Sheriff positioned himself at the door, as if he was worried, there would be someone storming in any minute. LaCroix seemed relaxed though.   
“Finally.” He muttered through his teeth, getting up, in the process closing the button of his blazer in routine.  
Apart from the odd blackout, their night was rather boring.  
It was 4am, when they finally called it a day and she was allowed to go home. Her clothes still were damp, so she had no choice that to go home in the things the prince had given to her, while she stuffed hers into her bag, to let them dry at home.

Manon was just glad, that the other ones at the company had left earlier, as they didn’t need to witness her walk of shame.  
Only Chunk, the overweight security man gave her a weird look, as she left the tower through the rotating door, but then, he always had this weird look on his face anyways.

It was still raining outside and so she decided to catch a cab. Unfortunately there was no cab around, so she decided to call one. As she walked down the street, looking on her phone to find out the number of a taxi company, she suddenly heard a voice behind her.

“Congratulations, kid!”  
Manon spun around, to see no one else than a man she had seen before already. It was Nines, the Brujah, who had been lurking outside of Abrams office in Hollywood.  
She sighed in annoyance.  
“Not you again!” she made, making him grin.  
“Are you having any further plans, Cammie?” he asked scornfully “Or can I convince you to join us at the Last Round for a little chat?”  
“No way!” Manon declined, having clearly no patience for this.  
“I see…” he stated, shrugging his shoulders “Does Daddy want you to be in bed soon? According to your outfit that is exactly where you are coming from, right?”  
Manon looked down on her, as she still was wearing LaCroix’s clothes. His words were angering her, but she decided to at least try to look unimpressed.  
“He has a very good taste in wardrobe.” She simply answered, which made him laugh, before she proceeded to leave, but he called her again.  
“Kiddo, I mean it. Maybe you want to talk to us, before you make up your mind and devote your life to the Baby-Face.”  
This was probably a bad idea, but on the other hand, she had realized a long time ago, that she was living in a gilded cage, since she had been embraced.  
Manon didn’t know what drove her to make that decision, but only fifteen minutes later Nines Rodriguez and her were entering a bar, with a broken neon sign above the door that said “The Last Round”. Quite a fitting name, considering this was yet another vampire club.  
It looked like a place where bikers and truckers would come for a cool beer out of a dirty glass. The counter was out of dark polished wood, but stained by probably all sorts of beverages from the past 20 years. Loud and aggressive metal music was flowing out of a pretty old speaker. As she followed him inside, the cringed because the floor was so sticky that the soles of her shoes made a crackling sound. The man went up some stairs and approached an equally sticky looking wood table with some shaky looking stairs, but suddenly a redheaded girl blocked their path. Manon just had to look at her to know that it would be best not to tangle with her.

“What is the cammie whore doing here?” she spat, almost growling with her arms crossed in front of her chest, suspiciously eyeing Manon.   
Manon wanted to reply something at first, but before she could say anything Nines softly touched the woman’s shoulders.  
“Chill, Damsel, I invited her for a little talk.” He explained to her, but it didn’t calm her down.  
“Why can’t we just kill her?” she proposed, giving the other one a disgusted look.  
“Because-“ Manon began, not knowing what now drove her to such boldness. Maybe it was because Damsel reminded her of one of the girls she had been to school with. “Because my sire is the Prince and if he found out that you killed me, he would call for a blood hunt, perhaps you will even be on the Red List.”  
The woman swallowed. The Red List was nothing to be joking about. Manon had read about it. A blood hunt was the order to destroy a Kindred who had violated one of their rules in such a horrific way, that it would be called out by the Domain’s leader. The hunted would have until midnight to escape the city and if not, any kindred of the domain would be expected to track them down and kill them. The Red List however was an order to kill said person in every single domain. It meant certain death and Manon was sure that none of the Anarchs would take that risk.  
“See, she even talks like one of those capes already!” Damsel complained, pointing her finger at Manon “Nines, you are fucking crazy if you think she would ever listen to you!”  
“Shut up, Damsel!” Manon turned her head, to see a man standing in the shadow of the room that she hadn’t noticed before. “Leave us.”  
Damsel seemed to have an inner fight going on, but she ultimately rushed down the stairs angrily, leaving them alone. The Ventrue turned her attention back to the strange man. He had a full beard, long greasy hair that he had tucked behind his ears and wore a leather vest without a shirt.   
“Sit down!” he told Manon and took a seat at one of the chairs as well. Manon did so, curious what this would be about.  
“Nice outfit!” he then commented, after his eyes had travelled up and down her body.  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Manon was getting tired of this. “I got caught in the rain and the prince borrowed me some of his clothes.”  
Gosh, why did she even tell them this?  
“How sweet of him.” Nines stated sarcastically.  
“Name is Jack, by the way!” the bearded one told her, as Nines turned his chair around and sat down, so that his arms were propped up at the back of it.   
“Manon. But you already know that, I suppose.” She introduced herself as well. They shook hands, she was getting used to the ice cold fingers of Vampires by now.  
“So, why do you want to speak to me?” she then wanted to know, straightening her position up. She tried to seem as casual as possible, truth was, even though she was at least 70% sure they wouldn’t kill her, she was scared as hell.  
“Well, kid, considering you are new and all, we just wanted to give you some… alternative information about all of this Madness.”  
“Mhm.” She made “Will there be a test at the end of it?”  
Jack burst into laughter. “She is funny, I like it! But considering that you are a Ventrue, this probably wasn’t a joke!”  
“Thing is.” Nines continued, ignoring the laughing vampire beside him “We did some research about you.”  
“Oh.” She swallowed hard. Were they spying on her? Getting her data through some criminal schemes? The idea made her uncomfortable.  
“We googled you…” he started out, making her sigh in relief. She had never used her full and real name online. When she had signed up for something, she had always used a variety of fake names, like “Bethany Wallace” which was her grandmas maiden name. She also wasn’t a fan of social media, for uni she had to create a facebook account (called “Mary Love”) but her profile picture had always been the same photo of her own shadow she had taken quite a few years ago. She wasn’t paranoid, but valued her privacy. So there was no way, they could have acquire any information about her.  
“So, what did you find?” she asked innocently.  
“Absolutely nothing.” The Brujah confessed and Manon had to smile. “However this is really odd.”  
“Odd?” she was confused “How?”  
“There was no entry about you, whatsoever. Well, just one about your graduation a few months ago, but else… you are a blank slate. Which makes us wonder, why did LaCroix chose you?”  
Manon blinked. She hadn’t thought about that. Why in the world had LaCroix even embraced her. She had just finished University and hadn’t had the chance to gather that much work experience.  
“Ventrue don’t embrace nobodys.” Jack added “They usually recruit their kind right out of the board room. It often takes years to get a vampires attention, so what makes you so special. You can code and do know a lot about modern technology, but could he have just embraced one of these Silicon Valley geniuses instead?”  
Manon could say nothing, but her silence was probably sufficient.  
“Shit, you don’t even know!” Jack laughed.  
“Why does this matter?” Manon hissed, sitting stiffly in her chair.  
“Maybe it doesn’t.” Rodriguez waved his hand “You just don’t seem like a natural Ventrue, you know what I mean?”  
“I will take this as a compliment.” She huffed, making both of them chuckle this time.  
It was true. She had never been someone who was incredibly ambitious or ruthless, which was what a Ventrue needed to be. Sure, she was intelligent and hardworking, but… was this sufficient to be in this clan?   
“But let’s come to the point.” Nines pulled her out of her thoughts, back into the dirty bar. “We wanted to inform you about what really was and still is going on in L.A. right now.”  
“So, go on.” Manon nodded, ready to hear them out, even though if she didn’t know if she was going to believe them.  
“Well, Los Angeles used to be the first Anarch Free State.” He began “No cammies, no Masquerade, no traditions. We had our fair share of problems, true, but all in all it was better than it is now, thanks to your Sire.”  
She licked her lower lip, not quite understanding what was so bad about the Masquerade. In her studies she remembered reading about the Convention of Thornes, where several clans had formed the Camarilla to protect themselves from the humans who were out to hunt them down.  
Vampires were powerful beings, but against a human who stormed into their haven during the day, they were pretty powerless.  
“Why do you not like the Masquerade?” she wanted to know. The Anarchs exchanged looks.  
“It is robbing us of our freedom!” Jack then scoffed “They call it safety, we call it oppression! They come here and do not respect that we had a system that worked. Some of our former allies joined forces with them, the spineless bastards. You know, like the Voerman Twins, but some of the old Barons have not forgotten what the Anarch Movement is about!”  
Manon went silent for a moment. She kind of understood why they were unhappy with the current state of things, but on the other hand, she didn’t quite know, how the Camarilla was oppressing them. There weren’t any taxes that they would have to pay? Not as far as she knew. And the traditions of the Masquerade made sense, if you thought about it. Not revealing their society to humans, respecting another’s domain… okay, the blood hunt seemed a little extreme.  
“We took care of our own problems.” Nines continued “We didn’t need LaCroix to dictate what we have to do now! He just sits there in his ivory tower, counts his money and sends his lackeys through the city!”  
“Why are you telling me this?” she shook her head. Yes, indeed, LaCroix was a snob, but blaming him for everything they were discontent with seemed a little harsh.  
“Because you know to deserve the truth!” Rodriguez changed his position “There are so many things your sire probably doesn’t tell you? Some things about himself, perhaps?”  
Manon had to agree, she knew in fact very little about her sire, he loved to talk about himself, but he never revealed any personal information. She just knew the basics, that were common knowledge in his court. He had at one time just briefly mentioned to her, that his sire had been a very cruel person, but that was the one and only time, his mask had slipped.  
“Did you know, that he was single handed responsible for the Great Depression?” Nines casually flexed his arms, as he spoke. “Causing millions worldwide to starve?”  
Against her will, her eyes went wide. Could this actually be true?   
“And apart from that, he probably still gloats about how he had brought order to L.A., back then in 1998. But fact is, the Camarilla takeover isn’t as glorious as they might tell you.”  
She didn’t know much about the history of Los Angeles, neither the mundane one, nor the secret one, but she figured that the Camarilla had captured this city because they probably had a sheer endless amount of resources, that would allow them such a stunt. Claiming dominance in a city wasn’t something you would achieve in a day.

“Has your Daddy ever told you about Chinatown?” Nines asked in all seriousness.  
“He is not my ‘Daddy’!” the woman protested, crossing her arms in front of her chest, but then she thought about it. He had never mentioned Chinatown, not like she recalled it, no.   
Reluctantly she shook her head.  
Nines rolled his eyes. “Of course not…” he muttered.  
“We Kindred avoid it.” He then started out “It’s not our territory.”  
“Is this where the Sabbat is hiding?” Manon guessed, propping herself up at the table.  
Jack laughed, but Nine’s face was unchanged.  
“No.” he simply said “Ever heard of the Kue-Jin?”  
“I haven’t.” she stated. This name sounded odd.  
“They are…” Nines bit the inner of his cheek “How do I explain this? They are basically immortals too. But they are not like you and me, they are Demons wearing corpses.”  
“What?”  
“Just… let’s just go with it.” He seemed annoyed “Truth is, I don’t really know what they are, and honestly, I don’t give a shit. Fact is, they have come to us across the ocean, wanting to take over. Now their bitch queen resides in China Town, in a golden temple, calling herself an ‘Ancient’. As far as I know, an Ancient is basically what a Prince for your Cammies is.”  
What? She was shocked? There were other immortals in Los Angeles?  
“Does the Prince know…” she started out, but Nines interrupted her.  
“Of course he know, everyone does. It is a little agreement, they leave us alone, if we leave them alone. We avoid Chinatown and they just avoid every other part of the city. We had an open war, the Anarchs and the Kue Jin… almost destroyed us completely, and that’s when the Capes showed up and built their little dandy domain.”  
This didn’t sound heroic at all.


	15. The Bats have left the Bell Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been far too productive today and so I give you the next chapter of Nocture! Yay!

For the next days, there were a lot of things for Manon to think of. First, the other immortals in Chinatown. She had never even read of them and wondered if there were any other creatures that roamed the night. When she asked Carla about it, the Toreador had just shuddered through gritted teeth and changed the topic, so perhaps her suspicion was right. No one wanted to talk about this, apparently. 

The Prince and her mostly communicated through mails at the moment, apparently he was pretty busy. Again he was mostly asking her to pick something up or run errands. Had she really thought, that her being fully introduced into the domain would change something about the stuff she got to do? This was work she had done on internships. Was she just that? An immortal intern? But then the pay was really good. Just a few days ago, she had received her monthly paycheck and had to look again, thinking that there must have occurred a mistake, because in no way they would pay her that much money. When she had asked the prince via email about it, she had just received a simple reply:

_Of course it is correct._

She had swallowed hard, she had never had this much money in her whole life. Indeed, it seemed like he had raised her salary, now that she as an official member of the domain. But what would she even spend it on? She couldn’t consume food after all and due to her shopping spree shortly after her embrace she was not really in the need of new clothes or things alike. True, her wardrobe lacked the flashy and extravagant things that Carla would probably wanted her to wear, when they were going out, but to be fair, it didn't’ feel right for her to spend this money on junk she would wear just once. 

It was already Friday evening, when she entered the office, abruptly running into Carla.  
She was wearing a beautiful green silk blouse today with a tight pencil skirt and her red curls were tucked behind one of her ears.  
“There you are!” she grumbled.  
“Did something happen?” the Ventrue replied, worried.  
“No…” Carla clicked her tongue “But do you want to come with me to grab some coffee?”  
Manon was confused.  
“But… we don’t drink coffee…” she spoke, trying to figure out what the redhead meant.  
“I know.” She laughed “I just want to go down to the cafeteria and pretend to be human for a little while. Are you coming with me?”  
“Sure!” she agreed, finding this request rather odd, but nevertheless decided to follow her.  
Carla seemed a bit upset, as Manon walked next to her to the elevator, to go a few stories down, where the cafeteria of the Venture tower was. As it wasn’t 10 pm yet, some of the shops were still open – apparently there were other workaholics here, who didn’t drink blood, but needed caffeine to stay productive.  
“What is wrong?” Manon asked, after they had placed their order.  
The Toreador sighed over dramatically, as if he had waited the whole time for Manon to ask her.  
“Everything!” she moaned “There is a gallery opening in Silverlake tonight…from an artist, you probably don’t know him, he has been inactive for… quite some time, but he had painted different people over the last ten years, including me!”  
Manon blinked, not knowing where this was going.  
“So? Isn’t that great?” she dared to ask.  
“It would!” a crease had appeared between her eyebrows “But just today I found out, that he isn’t even going to display my portrait! I mean, how could he? Does he even understand how shameful this will be? How much my reputation will suffer?”  
A tired looking woman with a blue apron put down two paper cups in front of them. Casually Carla swiped a ten dollar note over the counter, before they turned to leave. As Manon picked hers up, it was so hot, that she had to wrap it in several napkins, to not burn her hands.  
“This is a catastrophe!” she continued, turning the cup in her hand. “Everyone knew he was painting me! And now he just didn’t display it at all! But the bastard still had the nerve to invite me!”  
“Then don’t go!” Manon suggested, pressing the button the call the elevator.  
The redhead groaned “I can’t! This will look like I am insulted and in the end I am the one who is losing face! I just… have to endure this somehow…”

“That’s a tough situation…” Manon replied, enjoying the warmth of the steaming paper cup. Now that she held this hot beverage, she again noticed, how cold her fingers actually were.  
She had known about all the trials and tribulations of the Ventrue clan, but now seeing what was going on amongst the Toreadors was truly fascinating. It reminded her a bit of the stories her mother had told her about art school, when the women herself had been a student, about how her colleagues were backstabbing and tried to hold everyone down. They stepped into the elevator cabin, the yellow light, making both of them seem paler than they actually were.   
“Ernest and I are going to a gallery opening in Santa Monica tonight…” Carla told her, turning fully to the Ventrue “Please, say you come! You have to!”  
“Of course!” Manon nodded enthusiastically, seeing how Carla relaxed.   
“Thanks, that would mean a lot to me!” she spoke, a soft smile adorning her beautiful lips. “This is just… insulting!”  
“If you want, I could do a portrait of you?” Manon then offered, making the other one blink.  
“You draw?” she then asked, making the black haired nod “I do! It is one of my dearest hobbies! But unfortunately, I’ve been far too busy to pick up a brush at the moment.”  
Carla laughed, as the elevator arrived at their destination and the doors went open and they got out.  
“Are you sure, you’ve been embraced into the right clan?” the woman wiggled her eyes, hitting a spot inside of Manon that she had tried to ignore for quite some time now.  
“Thing is, I don’t even know…” Manon turned to look at her, but suddenly bumped into someone, spilling her hot coffee all over his shirt.  
She gasp and jerked away, only to realise that she just had poured the brewing liquid all over no one other, than the Prince.  
Shit.  
“Oh gosh!” she yelped, looking at him with wide eye, he just looked at the big brown stain on his white shirt. His eyes were big and he opened his mouth as if he wanted to release all of his anger at once and again there was this straight crease between his eyebrows, signalling her, that she was in deep trouble. Why couldn’t she have looked before turning with a hot beverage in her hand, like a fool?   
“I am so sorry, Se- Prince!” she babbled, taking one of the napkins she had wrapped around her cup before, trying to wipe this mess off his chest, in the process only spreading it more. LaCroix didn’t yell at her, maybe because Carla was present, but more likely because he was shocked by her, rubbing a cheap paper napkin all over his upper body.  
“I am so, so sorry!” Manon panicked “Where did you buy that shirt, I will atone for it, I-“

“Will you stop it?” he protested, but Manon didn’t.  
Hastily she continued, until she felt his hand wrapping around hers in a strong grip, to stop her.  
Just now she noticed that she just had been touching him all over his chest, making her instantly fear, that she had crossed a serious boundary.   
“I’m sorry…” she winced, but he lifted an eyebrow, shook his head, turned around and walked towards the door that led to his staircase.  
“Shit…” Manon huffed, covering her face with her hand. This had been awkward and she was glad, that just Carla had witnessed this.

A few hours later, Manon received a mail from her sire, asking him to come and see him. Oh dear, maybe he wanted to yell at her now, because of his shirt? The whole evening she had thought about this embarrassing incident and wasn’t quite able to concentrate, because she felt so ashamed.  
When she headed for his office, and opened the door to the staircase, she saw a procession of people walking down the stairs. They were Kindred, that was clear, but she couldn’t tell why they were here. There was a tall bald man, completely dressed in red, whom she had already seen at her introduction, as she recalled, a Nosferatu, wearing a Tuxedo, The rest of them looked pretty normal, dressed in typical business attire as they strutted past her, seemingly without taking notice, that she was there. But still, they had this very exalted aura around them, that felt almost intimidating. Only the Nosferatu winked at her, as he past her, before they disappeared out of the door, Manon had just entered through.  
Strange.  
She continued her way, ascending the stairs to LaCroix’s office.

As usual she knocked three times, before hearing him, telling her to enter.  
Nervously, she slipped through the door.  
“Bonsoir.” He was greeted by him, in his usual drawling manner.  
“Good evening…” she responded, nodding respectfully. He didn’t seem mad at her, as he sat there at his desk, but maybe just, because there were more pressing matters at hand.  
“Who were they?” she asked curiously, after closing the door.  
LaCroix sunk into his chair.   
“The Council of the Primogen, I’m afraid!” He sighed, massaging his temples with his index fingers. “Every now and then they demand an audience and we discuss all the things that are going on in this domain.”  
“Oh!” she made.  
Then she noticed, that he was wearing a different shirt.  
“I am sorry about your shirt…” she stuttered, remembering her earlier faux pas.  
“Thank you.” He just said.  
“Also, I suppose, the hot coffee wasn’t too pleasant either…” Manon bit her lip awkwardly.  
“I could think about more pleasurable things.” He mused. “The Primogen meeting was not one of them.”  
For a short moment he almost seemed amused, before turning his attention fully to her again.  
“There was something I wanted to ask you…” he then started out, clearing his throat and straightening his tie. Had she even seen him without a tie? Probably not. Well, at her introduction there had been a bow around his neck, but this didn’t really count. Perish the thought, seeing him in something casual like a T-Shirt.   
Curiously she waited for his question.  
“How… are you?” he then spoke and it sounded terribly forced, as if he couldn’t be bothered to ask something trivial as this.  
First she was a little confused and overwhelmed, not knowing what kind of answer he expected her to give him.  
“Good, I guess…” she tried to smile, but her face probably was now pulled into a stiff grimace, that parodied an actual happy expression.  
“No, I mean… how have you settled in?” he continued “Do you like working here?”  
Why did he ask her that? What had gotten into him? Was that why he called her to his office?  
“Yeah, it is… really nice.” She told him, hoping he would take this as an answer, but unfortunately he would not let her off that easily.  
“And do you…” again he cleared his throat “Have you got any friends yet?”  
“Um…” she started out. What was this about?   
“Yes,… I-I am going out a lot with Carla.” She then confessed “I’ve met many Toreadors recently…”  
“Oh.” He made and disappointment was audible in his voice “And… any Ventrue, perhaps?”  
She shook her head. Sure, the Ventrue treated her very nice and respectfully, but she had quickly got to understand that they had nothing in common. Amongst the Toreador however, she at least had a good time. No one there had a stick shoved up their asses, like almost every Ventrue here, including the Prince.  
“Anyway.” He then started out “Was there anything else, you wanted to discuss?”  
Oh my, he started to act like a teacher all of the sudden. Why was he suddenly so interested in her? To be fair, she already knew, that the Prince knew little to nothing about her personal life, her interests or anything else, that wasn’t in her CV.  
But there was a thing, she wanted to ask him. 

“There is something …” she began, kneading her hands, but she almost managed to keep up the eye contact all the time.  
“The other night, I met Nines Rodriguez.”  
„Nines Rodriguez?” he repeated and she saw his jaw stiffening.  
“Yeah, he waited for me outside of the tower and asked me to come and talk to them.”  
She noticed how his fingers knocked against the desk rhythmically, which seemed like an odd habit for the prince.  
“Did he?” his tone was weird as well. “And?”  
„Well, he told me, that you alone basically caused the Great Depression in the 1930s.“ she then confessed.  
Her Sire blinked a few times and tilted his head, then his lips curled into a smile and he shook his head.  
“I am fairly certain that I did not do that.” He told her “I came to the States in 1931 and for what I remember the Great Depression started a few years earlier. At that time I was in the Domain of London, if I recall it correctly.”  
“Oh!” she exclaimed. Had Nines just been misinformed or had he told her that lie on purpose? Or was LaCroix lying? She didn’t know what to believe, but then she imagined it to be very difficult for one single man, even if it was an immortal workaholic, to accomplish the biggest financial crisis in history all by himself. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in this.  
“The Great Depression…” she heard him mutter under his breath, opening up his notebook “Mon dieu, non! As if I would ever be as incompetent as that…”  
To her amusement she noticed that his notebook wasn’t plugged in tonight. Had the almighty prince really listened to her advice?   
“Do you know how this city was, before we decided to come back?” he asked, without looking up. “It was utter chaos. Open fights, masquerade breaches, thinbloods running around everywhere… there was even a biker gang of ghouls who hunted Kindred down to drown them of their vitae. Something had to be done! Ask Mr. Rodriguez if he still remembers that!”  
“I hope it never comes to that.” She shrugged. She didn’t plan on showing up at the Last Round again. Of course, she knew what they wanted. They wanted to pull her on their side, because surely, if the Prince’s precious new fledgling, would end up joining their movement, it would cause a huge scandal that probably affected the whole domain. She was curious if her sire knew that.  
“Is he bothering you?” LaCroix looked up, his cold eyes resting on her.  
Quickly she shook her head.   
“Good.” He leaned back in his chair “I hope you are able to see through his lies. I know the Anarchs have not forgotten the sacrifices on their sides yet, but-“ LaCroix paused and his lips curled into a sardonically smirk.  
“There is a saying.” He then started out “Maybe you’ve heard of it. _On ne peut pas faire une omelette sans casser des œufs._ ”  
You can’t make omelette without breaking eggs.  
Manon nodded.  
There was a small smile on his lips.  
Suddenly it seemed as if he had just thought of something.  
“Did he… did he tell you anything else?” the Prince then asked, trying to sound casual.  
“Yes…” she revealed “They told me about the… Ku-… Koe…?”  
She wasn’t really able to remember the exact word and saw how he had lifted his eyebrows, apparently not understanding what she was trying to tell him.  
“The other immortals in Chinatown!” she finally spoke, witnessing how his face fell.  
“The Kue-Jin.” He complied. Yes, that was the word.  
She didn’t know why, but suddenly he seemed tensed.  
“Listen to me, never go to Chinatown!” he suddenly demanded. “It is not our territory.”  
“Why not?” again Manon’s mouth was faster than her brain “I thought this domain was under complete Camarilla control.”  
She heard his knuckles crack, as she noticed that his hands were into tight fists. Apparently this was a sensitive topic.  
“It is… except for Chinatown.” He then slowly spoke. “But don’t worry, it certainly won’t stay that way.”  
He gave her a mysterious look, before he sat up straight again and forced himself to smile at Manon. It was toothy and so fake, it almost frightened her, like he was grinning for the first time in centuries and had forgotten how to do it correctly. His teeth were immaculate and white, like enamelled porcelain.   
“Also, have I told you about Wednesday night?” he suddenly began.  
She thought about it for a moment, but he certainly had not told her about anything.

“There is an event in a mansion in the Hollywood Hills. I need to attend, and since you are introduced in the community already, I need you to come as well.” He explained.  
“What kind of event?” Manon frowned, not quite understanding why she should accompany him.

LaCroix pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“Something equally unimportant as all the other things I had to waste my time at the last few years. There will be a dance and intrigues. I detest these gatherings, but for the sake of diplomacy and the masquerade we need to attend.”

“Misery loves company.” She lifted both of her eyebrows, giving him a telling look, making the Prince smile slightly.  
“Indeed.” He softly spoke “And it will be an opportunity for you to know what the other important members of this domain look like, so you at least recognize the Primogen, when they wander out of my office.”  
He winked at her. Well, he actually just closed his left eye for a short moment, but she thought that he meant to wink at her. What was wrong with him, this behaviour seemed so weird, she almost wanted to ask him, if he was alright.  
Then she noticed that he scrutinized her. “Go buy yourself a formal dress.” He then said “…something elegant.”  
Manon pouted.  
“Can’t I just wear my Chanel dress?”  
The Prince scoffed amusedly.  
“You can’t be serious. You can’t wear the same dress to two successive events!”  
He got up and took his wallet out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket.  
“Here!” he gave her a business card and a credit card with his name on it.  
“Call there and buy whatever dress you like, money doesn’t matter. And if it is the most expensive dress they carry, I don’t object.”

“Sebastian, I can’t let you pay for my dresses…” she whispered, being a bit embarrassed by his gesture.  
“You can.” He shrugged his shoulders and turned around “After all, I have to look at you wearing them, don’t I?”  
Oh how charming he was. Internally she rolled her eyes.

“Any colour preference?” she asked sarcastically, making him wave his hand. “I detest colours.” He simply told her.  
“I’ve noticed…” she muttered more to herself, his current outfit, consisting of a black suit, a white shirt and a grey tie, confirming her suspicion once again.  
“Fine, I’ll buy a dress… is there anything else?” Manon asked, to which he just shook his head.  
“Nothing, you are free to leave.” LaCroix told her, again glancing at the screen of his notebook.  
“Okay… have a nice weekend then!”   
It just occurred to her, that she had never in fact wished him a nice weekend, but she supposed that for the busy Ventrue weekends didn’t exist. What would he even do in his free time? Well, he had told her that he enjoyed reading, but he hadn’t told her what. For a moment she indulged in the thought of him sitting in a huge armchair with a glass of blood in his hand, enjoying some weird romance novel, old ladies liked to read. After all, he was over 200 years old, so why not?  
She had already turned around and almost had reached the door, when he called her again.  
“Manon?” LaCroix’s tone was soft “I appreciate that you told me about the anarchs.”  
“Don’t mention it…”

She didn’t need to do much else, and as it was Friday, everyone went home a bit earlier, well except for LaCroix maybe.  
He had told her the other night, that he often worked until dawn, and she wondered how often this had occurred.

As soon as she came home, she took a shower and got ready, because Carla would come over and afterwards they wanted to meet Ernest at the gallery.  
Manon put on one of her cocktail dresses, it was anthracite and had a quite modern cut, making her wonder, why LaCroix even let her buy it.  
Carla arrived on time, wearing an outrageous lime green dress that sparkled, making her look like an actual mermaid.  
“Hello!” she greeted her with a kiss on the left and on the right cheek “You look fabulous!”  
“Thanks…” Manon tugged at the hem of her dress “I just realized I have never worn this before.”  
“It looks really good!” she smiled as Manon spun around, presenting her new attire. “But do you know, what would really complete your look? A chin length bob cut!”  
Manon laughed, but the Toreador stayed dead serious.  
“…What?” she was confused.  
There was no way, she would cut her hair right now! She was undead, her hair didn’t grow back, so if she cut it now, this was permanent.  
It had taken her many years to grow her hair at the length it was now and whenever she had been to a hairdresser, she had mourned for every single inch they had taken away. So, no, she wasn’t letting Carla cut her hair.  
“Do you have sheers?” the redhead looked around with a wicked grin.  
“Carla, no!” the Ventrue sighed “I don’t want to-“  
She started giggling.  
“Oh, don’t you know? Whatever you do to your body, it will be like the day you’ve been embraced, the next night!”  
Manon did know that fingers grew back over night, but hair as well? Hair was dead after all…. But then, so was she…

She wouldn’t have guessed, that she would look this good with short hair, but after Carla and her had stood in front of her bathroom mirror for a while, and the Toreador had worked on her with a pair of sheers, she was more than content.

“Thank you!” Manon smiled, as they returned to the living room, touching her neck, as it was now exposed. Maybe she could try out other haircuts, when they would grow back after all.   
“You look so good!”Carla smiled and took a picture of her on Manon’s phone.  
“Oh, look!” she squealed “This is so pretty!”  
“Thanks!” Manon laughed and scrutinized the photo. It was uncanny, how much she still resembled herself, but now that she was a vampire, she had gone through a change of appearance as well. Vampire Manon looked different from Human Manon, there was no doubt about it.

“Let’s send it to LaCroix!” Carla suggested, giggling like a maniac, obviously a in high spirits, because she had just performed such a good job on her new hair cut.  
“What?” Manon protested, trying to snatch it away, but Carla was quicker “No way! Why would he be interested in-“  
“Oops!” the redhead laughed, pressing a button on her phone. “I already did!”  
“What?” Manon aggressively grabbed the device out of the other’s hand. Indeed, she had sent the picture “Carla! You can’t sent his to Sebastian!”  
“Sebaaaastian!” Carla echoed with a grin “I didn’t know you and the prince were on first name base already!”  
The Ventrue groaned and rolled her eyes at her. What had she been thinking? What would the Prince be thinking? He probably wondered, why she would send him something like this! They weren’t close and this was clearly too private. After all, he had never sent her a picture! It just wasn’t their thing!  
Maybe he was too old to know the lame “my friend sent this” excuse, but before she could think of a proper apology, her phone buzzed and she got his answer.

_It suits you very well._

“See?” Carla laughed, who had been looking over Manon’s shoulder “It’s not as bad as you think! I am sure, the Prince won’t mind that you send him private things as well.”  
Manon rolled her eyes.  
“Do you send him private things?” she asked mockingly, gaining an amused snort.  
“No!” she exclaimed, curling a strand of her fire red hair around her finger “But then, I am not his childe,…”


	16. Is your heart in need?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some affection... kinda

Shortly before midnight LaCroix’s limousine came to pick her up from her place.  
Manon had spent the yesternight with Carla at some high end boutique to pick something out for the Camarilla event, she had to attend along with the Prince. The Toreador had convinced her of buying something, that wasn’t as conservative as her sire would have wished for. The dress was black and ended a few inches above her ankles, so it had a classic cut from the 50s, but had some golden thread embroidered in the skirt, making it look a bit like the night sky. It had a bodice with an integrated corset, that was giving her an hour glass shape and looked a bit like it was from the late 1700s. She paired this very original dress with black leather gloves and a fur jacket, on which the saleswomen had insisted, and both Manon and Carla had to agree that it went along perfect with the extravagant piece of clothing.  
She had curled her hair, which had taken her quite some time, regarding their length and had put it up in a high pony tail, that was secured with all the of bobby pins she could find around her apartment, to make it stay in place. 

Manon had to admit, that she was very excited – this would be her first Camarilla event she attended as a proper member of this domain! She didn’t know what would be awaiting her there and even though she knew that Sebastian was not too fond of these gatherings, she was full of enthusiasm. 

When she got into his car, she found him already waiting on the backseat, in his hand a glass of blood.  
“Good evening.” He stated, raising the glass lightly. She noticed that he looked as tired as the last time she had seen him.  
“Can I offer you some as well? These parties tend to be unbearable without alcohol. The donor was drunk off gin, I suppose.”  
Manon hesitated a moment.  
“Don’t worry, it’s fit for both of us.”  
She nodded with a smile. “Very much.”  
He put his glass back onto the little side table and poured a new one for her.  
“Thanks.” She answered, taking a big sip, watching him, filling his again.  
“Is it that bad?” she dared to ask, turning the glass in her hand.  
The Prince fell silent. Even in the spare light, she could see the dark circles under his eyes.  
She noticed how he pressed his eyes shut.  
“Is everything alright?” Manon asked.  
“I’m fine, thank you… I am just a little tired.” His voice sounded exhausted.  
She held her breath, witnessing his mask slip like this. Did he actually tell her how he was feeling?  
Manon looked worried “You do seem a bit worn out… how long did you sleep last day?”  
At first she was afraid if the question was too bold, but he just reacted with a shrug of his shoulders. “A few hours… 3 to 4 maybe…”  
Manon cringed. “I… I do not know a great deal about vampiric physique, but this sounds like awfully little.”  
He blinked a few times and nodded. “It is.”  
“Insomnia?” she commented, a little braver, ready to test her luck now.  
LaCroix shook his head, lifting an eyebrow, almost offended.  
“No, I am just very busy, as you well know.”  
“Still… you need to take care of yourself!” she suggested, a little quietly, biting her lower lip.  
He chuckled humourlessly, rubbing his left eye “My dear Miss Lovett – every minor problem a grain of sand, and I inherit a desert each night. I don’t have that much time.”  
“I do understand, Sebastian, but… you cannot work efficiently, if you do not rest properly.” She then said, her voice almost firm.  
He threw a disapproving glance at her.  
“What do you suggest I do?” he scoffed sarcastically “Let this city fall to chaos then? But no, I am sure, the Sabbat will let me enjoy a good day’s rest for once.”  
“Nevermind.” She pouted, turning her head to look out of the window. Asshole.  
This evening would be very long, if he continued to act as bratty as he did now.  
She had gotten used to him being overly dramatic, but it was getting really annoying.  
They were silent for a moment, Manon demonstratively looked out of the window, something she had done already in his limousine, to avoid talking to him any longer.

“I see you bought a jacket. But was your dress hunt also successful?” he suddenly inquired.  
“Y-yes!” she confirmed, a bit startled, facing him again “I found a black dress, but… the sales woman asked me to try on this black fur shoulder throw with it and…”  
“Who made the dress?” Sebastian interrupted her, before she could finish her explanation.  
“Vivienne Westwood.” She informed him, receiving a disapproving glance in return.  
“Vivienne Westwood?” he repeated “And here I thought I could trust you.”  
“You haven’t even seen it properly yet!” she smiled “It’s one of her more modest designs. Also it had this really adorable rococo bodice…”  
She noticed, how his eyes wandered over her.  
“I see. It suits you.” He then said “Unfortunately you keep sabotaging yourself with it.”  
“What do you mean?” she answered nervously. Did she look silly or not appropriate for a Ventrue? What if the others are going to make fun of her outfit choice?  
“Well,…” he started out “You told me some time ago, that you hate being the centre of attention, but looking as beautiful as you do tonight, you simply can’t avoid it.”  
Why was it always when they were going to social events, he all of the sudden acted so… so… flirty?  
Or maybe it was the alcohol? From what she had tasted of this alcoholic blood, it went to her head pretty quickly. And if he was already drinking his second or third glass…  
“Thanks…” she whispered, swallowing hard. His compliments made her quite nervous.

When they arrived, a ghoul in a red velvet uniform of a lobby boy at a high end hotel from the 1920s opened the door of their limousine and LaCroix got out, followed by her.  
There was a body guard at the door, asking the people who wanted to enter to show their invitation.  
Suddenly Manon thought of something.  
“Am I even invited?” she asked her sire.  
“No.” he simply answered, straightening the jacket of his tuxedo. Her eyes went big.  
“But…” she started out and LaCroix rolled his eyes, grabbing her arm and hooking it into his, leading her towards the body guard, ignoring the queue that was waiting for him to grant them entry.  
When the man saw LaCroix, he quickly nodded respectfully and let the two vampires enter without saying a word.  
Oh. Right. As Prince, they wouldn’t even dare to ask him to show them something meaningless as an invitation. They knew him, and they very well knew that their head would roll, if they would stand in his way.

The mansion was brightly lit, so bright, that her eyes needed to get accustomed to it, when they entered. As she glanced at LaCroix, whose arm she still held, her jaw almost dropped.  
In the car and outside in the dark, she didn’t notice how elegant he looked!  
He always looked really posh, but the tuxedo he was wearing suited, like it was hand crafted to fit his form. His hair was brushed out of his face and it would probably take a while for the rebellious blond streak to curl into his forehead again.  
“So, what’s next…” she asked in a whisper, after she noticed, that she had been staring at him for far too long now.  
Sebastian frowned. “First, I need to greet everyone.” He then explained “You should come along, so that you introduce yourself.”  
“But I am already introduced!” she protested, hoping that this wouldn’t have been necessary anymore. “They know who I am.”  
He threw a reproachful glare at her.  
“Yes, but you don’t know who they are.” He then reminded her and she had to admit that he was right.  
“Okay…” she muttered, stroking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, that had fallen out of her pony tail.  
“I take everything back, I said about your dress.” He suddenly said and looked at her with a tiny smirk on his lips “You chose very well.”  
Manon almost choked on her own spit.  
There it was again! A compliment, that had come so sudden and so unexpected, that it made her all flustered up.  
“Thanks…” she mumbled again, not able to hold eye contact.  
He led her through the hall, past groups of conversing people, towards an open door, that lead into the main room of the event. She couldn’t help but notice, that a lot of the other Kindred, of which she had seen quite a few already, looked up to glance at them. She hated being looked at like this, but they probably looked like that because she was clinging onto the arm of the domain’s leader after all.

“LaCroix!”  
Manon turned her head and saw a fat man coming towards the Prince. Unexpectedly she witnessed how the stranger hugged him. Surprised and a little amused she watched how LaCroix’s whole body stiffened, as he clearly didn’t want to be that close to this man. It was adorable.  
“It’s been a long time, Prince!” he let go of him, smiling.  
“Too long, Alessandro, too long!” LaCroix answered, putting on his best public relation expression.  
Then the man took notice of Manon.  
“And who, might I ask, is your charming companion?” without any further words, he took her hand, that was covered in her black leather glove into his and pressed a kiss onto the back of hers.  
“This is Alessandro Giovanni, CEO of Prisma Enterprise, and Alessandro, might I introduce you to Manon Lovett, my personal assistant and childe.” Sebastian complied, sounding almost bored.  
“Oh, new blood for the Ventrue clan.” He laughed at her face. “I can clearly see your ‘deer in the headlights’ look. Keep it, it makes the men crazy.”  
Out of politeness she joined the fake laughter, even though she rather had just turned around and left.  
“You have good taste, LaCroix, I give you that!” he continued, his eyes roaming over her body, making her cringe, but she knew, she mustn’t show it. “Indeed, very, very good taste.”

LaCroix cleared his throat politely, smiling, Manon, who was still holding onto his arm, noticed how his muscles clenched and his grip was pulling her a little tighter towards him.  
“Well, it was nice meeting you, but there are many more hands to shake, Prince!” Giovanni laughed and patted him onto the back. “Until then! Enjoy the party, you two!”  
He turned around to greet other people, leaving the two Ventrues behind.  
LaCroix groaned softly and leaned over to Manon.  
“Try to stay away from him.” He whispered “He is not the best company.”  
Manon rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. He is certainly not my type.”  
LaCroix remained silent.  
“You look very nice with your hair up, have I told you that?” he suddenly said, low enough for only her to hear.  
“Th-thank you…” she stuttered, sure, if she was still mortal she would have blushed. That was the third compliment she had received from him tonight! 

One hour later Manon stood alone at the bar, in her hand a martini glass, but it was filled with blood. All the cocktails where just blood in different glasses, she thought. The blood in her hand was not her preference, but she had ordered it, just to have something to hold onto and not look totally lost. Gosh, being Ventrue was like being the designated driver at a party where everyone else is getting ratted.  
It was so boring here, there was no one she knew and everyone was talking about business apparently. This wasn’t a party, this was just a big meeting, that took place at a flashy location.  
LaCroix had been talking to different important kindred all evening long. After being introduced to five different people, who had basically treated her, like she was nothing more than a pretty accessory, hanging from the Prince’s arm, she had gotten frustrated, had excused herself and since then, she was standing at the bar, hoping that she would be able to leave soon.  
What a pity, she felt really confident in her new dress, but getting dolled up for just standing around seemed like a waste.  
After all, she had met the Ventrue primogen for the first time, a women named Emma Devitt, who also was a member of the Gerousia, the board of Ventrue, who met every other week to discuss clan related matters. She wore a stunning dress in a dark shade of blue, that looked so elegant, but in a very conservative and strict way, that Manon felt instantly intimidated, especially since the woman was a lot taller than her, which wasn’t unusual, as Manon herself was really tiny. She had seemed friendly, but Manon quickly noticed, that it would be best, not to test her patience. “Finally we meet in person!” Devitt had greeted her with the hint of a smile on her dark lips, as they shook hands. She had been nice and polite, but she knew where this was coming from. Of course, being the Prince’s childe made the older vampire treat Manon differently from any other Ventrue fledgling, which were nothing in the inner clan hierarchy until they acquired some fortune and foremost power by themselves. Devitt wasn’t the only one of the clan leaders who was present at this event.

She observed her sire, who was speaking to the bald man with glasses she had seen a couple times before, and which she now knew was the Primogen of Clan Tremere and regent of the local chantry. He wore a long red coat and seemed extremely exalted. She remembered what she had read about the Tremere – about how they were nothing but mortal mages until they stole their immortality and joined the vampires. There were other people present, who were also dressed in scarlet red and so she figured, that they were in fact other members of this illusive clan. They couldn’t be trusted, she had read, as they were full of secrets and had perhaps a different agenda in mind than the rest of the sect.  
In thought she looked at LaCroix and suddenly their eyes met.  
Did she imagine it, or did the corners of his mouth really quirk up slightly, when he had looked at her? But quickly he faced his conversation partner again.  
The woman sighed and leaned against the bar, not quite knowing what to do. She didn’t know anybody, which wasn’t a surprise as this was her second formal event in her immortal unlife, and she had never been someone to talk to strangers.  
“Enjoying the night, darling?” Manon gasped in surprise, as an ice cold hand touched her shoulder blade. She spun around, almost dropping her glass, as she looked into the eyes of another Giovanni. It wasn’t hard to tell, as his Italian suit and the gelled back dark curls gave it away.  
He seemed pretty young, but the way he moved gave away his real age – no one straightened their posture like this today. His nose was crooked and he smiled, revealing a pair of sharp fangs.  
“Paolo Giovanni” he introduced himself, reaching for her hand. “Pleasure.” She lied, but then he grabbed her palm and pressed a kiss onto her hand, that was covered by her glove. According to the amount of slimy Kindred who had kissed her hand this evening, the gloves now turned out to be a good investment. “I have the pleasure!” his words were covered in an Italian accent, he probably carried proudly.  
“I have never seen you before, are you new in town?” he wanted to know, coming closer. Manon took a step back, already pressed against the bar.  
“You could say that…” she answered, her tone annoyed, hoping he would take the hint.  
The vampire didn’t seem to care.  
“Oh, a fledgling, I see!” he laughed darkly. “Say, your sire wouldn’t have anything against it, when I played a while with his new toy?”  
Manon’s eyes widened in offense, as he raised his hand, to stroke her face. But before his fingers could even touch her, there was a polite cough next to him.  
“I actually would mind.” LaCroix smiled at the other one, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “In fact, I would advise you to leave my childe alone, would you?”  
“Oh, mi dispiace, Prince!” he apologized, ducking away. “I didn’t know she was your fledgling.”  
“Now you do.” he spoke with a firm voice, before watching the other one disappearing in the crowd.

Manon’s eyes followed the weird man, who hurried to get away.  
“Are you alright?” LaCroix whispered the question, offering her his arm.  
She gladly took it, still annoyed by the incident.  
“Yes, don’t worry.” She answered “I’ve met worse people.”

“Worse than a Giovanni?” he softly chuckled “I doubt that.”  
“Then you have never been to a Semester Closing party of a Technical University, I suppose.” She joked, to which he lifted an eyebrow.  
“But don’t be afraid, no one will dare touching the Prince’s childe.” LaCroix then reassured her.  
“I wasn’t afraid!” she informed him “I just hated that he looked like me, like I was a raw piece of meat.”  
Why was he so over protective all of the sudden?  
“And what is the deal with the hand kissing?” she complained “I understand, most of the people here were born 200 years ago, but couldn’t they just ask, before they grab my hand and press their mouths against it?”

“Would you like to go outside a bit?” The Prince suggested all of the sudden.  
“Okay.” She agreed. Getting out of this crowded space would be more than delightful for once.

He led her out of the hall towards a door that supposedly led to a spacious winter garden with open windows.  
“Prince!” she heard someone call him. It was another man in a red coat, obviously a Tremere, like the one she had seen before. “A word?”  
“I’ll be with you in a minute.” LaCroix muttered to Manon, as he turned around and greeted the man.

Manon meanwhile stepped into the winter garden. It was beautiful with many potted flowers, plants and antique looking furniture. She wondered whose house this even was, but it probably belonged to a very, very rich Ventrue or Toreador. After all, this was Los Angeles, and if she had learned anything, it was that this city didn’t lack of luxurious mansions from the Golden Age of Hollywood.  
A cool breeze was blowing through the room, but it wasn’t unpleasant.  
Manon took a deep breath.  
Even though she didn’t need to, she couldn’t deny how wonderful the cold night air felt in her lungs, filling her body. As she looked around, she noticed a gold framed mirror. She stepped in front of it, examining herself. She looked better, than she had ever done. The embrace had been like a second puberty for her, but without pimples, just with her own death. She smiled and straightened her back, pushing her shoulders back, which made them crack. Immediately she cringed, as she didn’t like that sound at all. But sitting at a desk all day didn’t help her back getting any better.  
Suddenly she heard a low chuckle. As she turned her head, she saw the Prince approaching her, stepping behind her, so he looked over her shoulder into the mirror. In the dim light of the winter garden he almost looked human, if it hadn’t been for his eyes, that had this glow to them, which was eerie and alluring at the same time, like the organic lamp of a sea-devil, that it used to lure its prey into certain death.  
“Do you have back pain?” he wanted to know, but she just shrugged. “A little, but it’s fine – I…” but before she could finish the sentence, his cool fingers were on the skin of her back, that was exposed due to the nature of her dress. A sigh escaped her lips. Normally this would have been highly inappropriate and she probably should have stopped him, but for some reason, she didn’t, as it just felt too good.  
Normally he wasn’t that touchy.  
“Manon…” he whispered into her ear and she felt how he softly rubbed circles onto her exposed shoulders. “You are so tense…”  
Manon turned her head and looked into his eyes. He held her gaze, icy blue orbs sinking into her amber ones, until they landed on her mouth.  
“Always sitting in front of that computer…” he tutted, increasing the pressure of his hands “That is really bad for your physique.”  
“I can’t work without a computer.” she answered in defense but her mouth slightly opened, as she enjoyed the sensation of his hands against her knotted muscles too much. Why the hell was he so good at this? The woman noticed that he was observing her in the mirror. What was going on here?  
His fingers were working up to the base of her skull, his other hand had found the point on her back, where all the pain was connected into a hard coil.  
He pressed his thumb against it with a little more pressure, making her bite back a moan that would embarrass her.  
“Hm?” he almost snapped out of it “Did I hurt you?”  
“Yes… no…” she groaned in pain but also in relief, as his hands worked up and down her neck, her shoulders and her back.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He just whispered against her ear and looked into the eyes of her reflection. “I can see how many of them are envious of you.”  
She did her best not to gasp, as she felt how her throat tightened.  
What did he just say? He must have been mad!  
“Of… me?” she asked and her voice was almost gone, to which he responded by pushing her head straight, so she was looking into the mirror on the wall.  
“Of course…” he muttered, also looking at their reflection. “Look at you, you are at least the best looking woman on this event tonight. Easily.”  
He didn’t say this, did he? She couldn’t believe this words were coming out of his mouth.  
Why would the Prince say something like that about someone like her?  
“Sebastian…” she began and looked at her feet “All those compliments… they make me uncomfortable…”  
He smirked darkly. “You should better get used to them…” he cleared his throat “Not just from me. It’s not like the others are blind. They noticed as well.”  
He pressed his thumb deeper into the knot, making her hiss and crook her back a little. LaCroix let go of her, running his hands briefly down her shoulders, observing her in the mirror.  
There they were, he in his elegant tuxedo, she in her new dress. They indeed looked like the embodiment of true perfection. Encouraged, she turned fully to the mirror.  
“You will recieve your fair share of compliments, believe me…” he chuckled, putting his hand lightly onto the small of her back. “Mostly because they want something… this is a burden we Ventrues have to bare. So it is necessary that you know not to trust everyone who butters up to you.”

Was it because he already was a little tipsy? Or perhaps because of his sleep deprivation? It had been not just an encouraging squeeze of the hand like it had been at her introduction into the domain, but he was giving her a backrub, all while giving her a lecture. At a party, where he could just be in the ballroom talking to an overweight Giovanni instead. This was just such an odd contrast to how he acted in the office, where he often seemed crude and cold to her, not really interested in anything that didn’t involve either him or the company.  
“Do I make you uneasy?” he suddenly asked, making her turn her head. He had obviously noticed, that he was.  
“A little bit…” Manon confessed and she saw that he was lightly licking his lips. That was quite the understatement, in reality, he was making her very, very uneasy. He was so close, if she turned her head their faced would touch.  
“Maybe I should stop, then?” she could feel his breath on her skin, making her lightly shiver as he spoke, watching her in the mirror.  
“No.” her lips formed the word, but there was no sound coming out of her mouth, as she again had forgotten to breathe in. LaCroix was very attractive; she had stopped ignoring that for quite some time, and now that he was so close he was making her almost squirm. 

A sharp giggle made them look up and jerk away from each other, as they saw a blond woman in a ruby red gown, accompanied by a tall man with dark hair entering their secluded spot.  
“What is he doing here?” she heard LaCroix whisper more to himself, as he hooked her arm into his and approached the couple.  
“Good evening!” he greeted them formally, Manon by his side. The blonde turned to him and her red lips cracked into a toothy grin. Manon noticed that her eyes were different coloured; one was a light blue, while the other was an intense green.  
“My Prince!” she smiled and LaCroix let go of Manon to take the woman’s hand, while they exchanged formal kisses on the cheek. “Therese!” he spoke “How are you?”  
“Very well, Prince!” she giggled and it was obvious, that she was just a little drunk already. Sebastian turned to Manon again.  
“May I introduce to you Manon Lovett, my childe!”  
“Pleased to finally meet you!” the woman chortled and took both of Manon’s hands into hers “The prince embracing such a pretty girl hasn’t been unnoticed in my Clan.”

“That is Therese Voerman, the Baron of Santa Monica and owner of the Club Asylum!” he continued.  
“Oh, I’ve been there quite a few times!” Manon told the woman, who smiled, while Sebastian looked, like he had just bitten into a lemon. “When I was alive, of course.” Shouldn’t she have told her?  
“How nice!” she smiled and Manon still hasn’t gotten used to her strange eyes. Then she looked at the man who had been accompanying her.  
“No way!” she blurted out, as she recognized the dark haired man. “You are Ash Rivers!”  
Indeed he had to be him. Ash Rivers, the actor, who got famous for his role in Negative Zero, the hottest action flip of the recent years. She remembered, that she had read, that he miraculously had survived a car crash unharmed. Now she knew why.  
“So you are Kindred as well?” she let go of Therese’s hand to approach Ash Rivers.  
“Yeah…” he just made, but didn’t look too pleased, as if she had reminded him of something he wanted to forget.  
They were silent for a moment, until Therese spoke again.  
“Well, it was quite a pleasure to meet you, but we don’t want to disturb you any longer, we just came for some… fresh air.”  
“Oh no!” LaCroix stopped her with a wave of his hand “We wanted to return to the party anyway. We merely also came her for some… fresh air.”  
With a polite nod of his head towards the couple, he guided Manon back into the ballroom, his hand on the small of her back again.  
“Wow!” she hissed “I didn’t know Ash Rivers was a vampire!”  
LaCroix bit his lower lip. “Well, he shouldn’t.”  
She turned her head to face him. “What do you mean?”  
“You see…” he lowered his voice, so she was the only one, who could hear him “He is the childe of Isaac Abrams and he was sired in Hollywood without my permission, therefor I could have both of them executed.”  
Manon swallowed hard. Of course. This was the third of the Camarilla Traditions.  
The Progeny.  
_Thou shall only Sire another with the permission of thine Elder.  
If thou createst another without thine Elder's leave, both thou and thy Progeny shall be slain. _

“But Abrams doesn’t know, that I know. He thinks I am oblivious to his bastard childe, hiding him away in the Anarch Territory. But he is here tonight, even though I figure Abrams would never let him go near such a Camarilla event. I find this… quite intriguing, don’t you?”  
She shot a glance at him, as they were coming to a hold next to a palm tree in a pot.  
“But why didn’t you execute them, if you had any right to do so?” she wanted to know, leaning closer towards him. She know how much the Prince detested the Baron of Hollywood, a dislike that was mutual.  
“Because…” he started and she noticed that he stared into the crowd “… he is an influential member of the Anarchs. And it is good to have something in the back of your hand for bad times, don’t you think?”  
Manon understood and she nodded. He had thought this through. But of course, he had. After all, he was the Prince.  
All of the sudden he turned fully to her.  
“Say, do you dance, Miss Lovett?” he asked her nonchalantly. Manon lifted an eyebrow. “I… Yes, I know the basics…” she babbled “Why?”  
LaCroix smiled and rolled his eyes, as she didn’t understand the hint. He then grabbed her hand and led her onto the dance floor.  
“I believe this is a slow waltz… are you familiar?” he murmured, making her nod, as he put his hand around her waist and the other held hers up. She couldn’t believe it. The music was slow and she didn’t recognize the song, Manon avoided making eye contact with her sire, who led her in the slow rhythm of the dance. Thankfully staring into each other’s eyes wasn’t necessary for a waltz. He clearly was very skilled at this, as he probably had been to many dances and balls in his unlife before.

This was like out of a fairy tale. The faces of the other people disappeared; the only thing she registered was the scent of his blood that was now so familiar to her.  
For the first time since her embrace she felt like this was where she belonged. Next to her sire, her Prince, who lead her in square steps over the dance floor. 

Manon was sure about it – what had started out as a mere attraction to the Prince had developed into a huge crush, and it terrified her.


	17. Quiet of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!  
> Finally the new chapter is here! Sorry for not updating sooner.  
> Also, do you know VTMB Clan Mod? If so, you might find an easter egg in this one. :)  
> Let's say something in there inspired me to this plot point ;D

The first thing Manon did, when she woke up the next evening, was checking her mails. She did this every night, before she left for the office, because it was not unusual for her to pick something up on her way to the Venture tower.  
Her daylight slumber hadn’t been too good, as she was haunted by the events of last night. She had repeated everything what had happened in her mind again and again. How they had danced, the feeling of his hand at her smaller back, his fingers on her back, shoulders and neck, how his breath had felt against her skin, his voice, when he whispered to her, how beautiful she had been… When she thought about the last night, she was all flustered up. Also, in her head she had played every scenario through that could have happened, if they hadn’t been interrupted by Ash Rivers.  
Sleeping had been impossible, when she imagined how much further they could have gone.

What had gotten into him? Why had he been so flirty? There was no better word to describe his behaviour better.

Her breath hitched in her throat, as she noticed a new message from the Prince.  
With shaking fingers, she pressed on the icon, to open it up.

_Manon,_  
Please pick up a letter at the reception of the Empire Arms.  
Thank you,  
Sebastian. 

She exhaled, a little disappointed, to be honest. She hadn’t expected a love letter, but that this mail seemed to indicate business as usual was a little saddening. Well, at least he had said ‘please’, which was a rather large improvement to his usual demeanour, but did she even expect?  
Sure, they had danced, but he probably did so with many other people. If he gave those people a backrub as well, was questionable, but she would do best, if she didn’t interpret anything into it. After all he was her sire, and yesterday he had drank too much.  
What if he wasn’t able to feel something for her at all? She didn’t know how people’s hearts could harden over centuries?  
But she should get this over with. The sooner she got this letter, the sooner she could get back to the Venture tower. 

The Foyer of the Empire Arms Hotel was pretty empty. On her way in, Manon had seen, that there was a concert in the ballroom tonight. She didn’t know the artist, but it seemed to be something jazzy and elegant. The songs were softly audible in the lobby. It was rather catchy.  
As she came to a hold in front of the reception desk, she noticed that it was abandoned. The vampire hesitated a moment, before she pressed onto the brass concierge bell, that was standing on the polished wood, making it ring once. It took a moment for a middle aged man to appear from a door behind the counter. He looked a little tired and she couldn’t but to notice the smell of cigarettes on him. For some reason, since she had become a Kindred, the scent of smoke and cinder irritated her. She should ask someone about this.  
“Yes?” he asked in a very polite fashion and Manon saw, how he was discretely checking her out.  
She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and instead smiled sweetly.  
“Hello, I am supposed to pick up a letter for Sebastian LaCroix.” The Ventrue informed the employee, who instantly turned around, where there was a shelf with various mail in it.  
“Ah, yes, I just need your signature.” He answered, neatly putting a form on the counter. Manon took the pen on a chain, that was next to her, to sign her name on the dotted line.  
“Thank you, Madam.” He turned back to her and handed her a letter out of thick paper. When she took it, their hands touched.  
“Oh, you are cold!” he stated, making her look up in alarm.  
“Yeah, I have a… bad circulation.” She lied and smiled, before she put the mail into her handbag.  
“Thanks.”  
“No problem, Miss.” He answered, crooking his head.  
“Manon?” she suddenly heard a voice, that made her turn her head. The man, who had just entered the lobby was no one other than Ernest. He wore a glamorous outfit completely in a deep shade of red with a fitting top hat and a grin across his face. “What are you doing here?”  
“Oh, just picking up something.” She told him, holding her bag against her tightly.  
“I see!” he winked at her. “Well, I am here for the concert! Care to join me?”  
She scoffed awkwardly.  
“Thank you, but I have to go and deliver this.” She patted onto her bag, but he just shook his head.  
“Come on, just for a little while!” he asked “You’ll like it, I promise!”  
Manon was torn. Maybe this could wait for just a little longer? But surely if she could just briefly catch up with Ernest and then go straight to the tower.  
“Okay.” She agreed and followed the Malkavian into a room, that looked like a little concert hall with a vintage looking stage and an elegant bar. It wasn’t crowded, but there was quite an amount of people around, listening to the beautiful woman, that was on stage. She wore a silver dress with long black gloves and her auburn hair was flowing open over her shoulders.  
“Such an angelic voice…” she heard him beside her, his eyes fixated on the beauty. “What a shame…”  
“What do you mean?” Manon inquired, Ernest gifted her a sad smile.  
“Eventually she will stop singing.” He mused “They all do. That is their burden.”  
Manon didn’t know how to respond. He could get melancholic at some times.  
Indeed the singer was good and of course Manon was aware that someday she would eventually die. They all would. Except for her and her kind. She would be immortal and she had to admit that she had no idea what this meant yet.  
Next year she was going to turn 24. No big deal – but what about when she would turn 50? When all the other women her age needed to buy anti- wrinkle cream? She would still have this body, unchanged by time. It was an intriguing thought. Would she even change mentally at all? Vampires were bad at that – why would she need to. Her body not changing meant, that she would still be able to do all the things she did now. There was no need to worry about a metabolism that would become slow, about wrinkles, about a bad sight or a bad memory. This was it. This was the only shape she would ever have, physically and mentally.  
It was almost sad, but this was the price she had paid for her immortality.  
Quickly she threw a glance at her wrist watch.  
“I should go.” She informed the Malkavian. “LaCroix is expecting me.”  
A smile appeared on his face.  
“Then better not keep him waiting.” He nodded at her, before his attention turned to the singer again. She liked Ernest, she really did, but she had to admit, that he was a very weird fellow.  
With a light smile on her lips she turned to leave and promptly ran into another person.

“Sorry!” she apologized as she bumped into a women at the bar.  
“No harm done!” She answered tilting her head in a cocky manner. The woman was beautiful, had dark brown hair and seemed to be in her early thirties. She was dressed in a luxurious and stylish dress, that complimented her slim figure. Her lips were painted red and her shimmering hair was in a posh updo. “Always nice to see new faces here.”  
Her tone was eloquent and confident and she seemed to be the embodiment of a successful business women.  
“Is it that obvious?” Manon laughed “Or do you know everyone around here?”  
She just shrugged and took a sip of her martini “Pretty much, yes. Do you mind, if I ask your name?”  
“Manon.” The Ventrue answered, as she shook her hand. As the woman came in contact with her cold skin, she smiled knowingly.  
“My name is Jane. I am a consultant. Finance.” She introduced herself, smiling, but it seemed like the grin a cat had on its face, when someone left the door of the canary cage open “What is your profession?”  
“Cyber Security and Business Informatics.” She answered in all honesty, letting go of the other one’s hand. “Finance, you say? How is business?”  
“Very well, thank you!” Jane smiled “We are a small firm, but we operate more innovative than all of the old dinosaurs in the field. We might be little, but quite a number of the major players have joined our clientele. You know, such as Pentex, the LaCroix Foundation, Wolfram & Hart…”  
“The LaCroix Foundation?” Manon blurted out “I work there!”  
For some reason a shadow appeared on Jane’s face.  
“In what position, if I might ask?” she wanted to know. “Cyber Security?”  
“Well, not really…” she shrugged “I am the personal assistant of the CEO.”  
Now her smile fell and was replaced by an expression of slight anger.  
“I see.” She said, her voice turning bitter “Well, it’s great to see that Sebastian has yet another nice young girl to keep his bed warm and his shoes shiny.”  
Manon blinked and she remembered to breathe. What was this supposed to mean?  
“There are so few distractions stimulating him enough to keep him away from counting all his blood money.” She continued with a discrediting wave of her hand.  
Manon swallowed hard.  
“I suppose you are not a fan then?” she asked innocently and Jane angrily clicked her tongue, her tone still cold and emotionless, but the blush that had appeared on her cheeks and the sound of her rushing blood gave away, that this was a sensitive topic for her.  
“Let’s say, I am one of the privileged few who has gotten to see the self-worshipping sociopath behind this gentle mask.”  
Manon didn’t know how to respond to this.  
“You are not the first person he has lured into his bed with that handsome face of his and you will certainly not be the last.” Jane spoke, her voice full of disgust.  
“I am not his…” she started out, but Jane just sighed in annoyance and took a sip of her drink. “I don’t want to waste your time, I am sure you have more important tasks to do, yes?” She said, turning her back to Manon, who remained put for a brief moment, before she fled the hotel.  
When she was on the street again, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Who was Jane?  
How did she know the Prince? And did she know about… the Kindred?

With a bad feeling in her guts, she made her way to the Venture Tower, still thinking about her previous encounter with this mysterious woman.  
Maybe she was a former employer? An old love? The thought sickened her for some reason, although she had no right to be even remotely emotional about this. His private life was none of her business. 

As she arrived at the office, she immediately went to Carla, who was sitting at the Welcome desk, staring at her notebook, which displayed an online article about a famous actress getting divorced. She minimized the window as soon as she heard Manon approach.  
“Oh, it’s you!” the redhead then smiled, getting up to hug the Ventrue.  
“Hi!” Manon greeted her friend “Did you know, that Ernest is at the Empire Arms?”  
“Oh, yeah, he told me.” Carla shrugged “There is this singer tonight he really likes.”

Manon pressed her lips against each other.  
“What is wrong?” the Toreador sensed her bad mood and Manon hummed and hawed, before she leaned closer.  
“I’ve met a woman tonight at the hotel. She is called Jane.”  
As soon, as Carla heard that name, she rolled her eyes and sighed.  
“Jane?” Carla repeated, her beautiful face frowning “Oh, stay away from her, the girl is nothing but trouble…”  
Manon didn’t understand.  
“Who is Jane exactly?” she asked, making Carla flinch a little. “Let’s not talk about this here…” she looked left and right, before she got up and grabbed Manon around her wrist to pull her into an abandoned office room, just a few steps away from her desk.  
“It’s… complicated…” the redhead started off, after she had shut the door behind her.  
“First, I don’t like her. At all.”  
Manon rolled her eyes.  
“Carla, please, cut the chit chat and tell me, what is going on!”

The Toreador exhaled and closed her eyes.  
“You don’t know this from me…” she whispered, before she looked up to face Manon again.  
“Jane is… what you might want to call, the Prince’s dirty, little secret.”  
Manon crooked her head.  
“Oh.”  
“She… she started out as a finance consultant at the LaCroix foundation a few years ago and somehow… I don’t know why, as I have never met anyone who was as arrogant as her – the Prince became obsessed with her. She soon became a vessel to him and she spent so much time with him… consulting, of course, that’s what she called it. But their liaison only lasted for about two months… I don’t know what happened between them, but she didn’t leave on good terms. He paid her a fortune for her discretion, so she was able to found her own consulting agency, but now she is still very bitter about it. Obviously, she despises the Prince.”

Manon had listened carefully to Carla’s words.  
“So… she is his ex-girlfriend?” she concluded and Carla released a broken laugh.  
“You could say so, I guess.” She shrugged “The way she gloated, while she strutted around here, like she owned the place, probably said all. If you ask me, they were definitely doing it.”

“She told me so herself. But…can vampires actually do that?” another thought crossed her mind.  
“What?” Carla seemed confused.  
“You know…” Manon started out, staring at her hands. “ _it._ ”  
“Oh dear!” the Toreador giggled, her eyes going big. “Well,… of course! Not like you used to do, when you were human, but it definitely works… at least for us Toreadors. You might need to use some blood on it, I am not sure about Ventrue, but I think it should work just fine for you too.”  
Awkward silence fell between them.  
“Have you not done _it_ yet?” she then asked “I mean, since your embrace?”  
Manon shook her head, a little ashamed. To be fair, she had been far too busy for carnal pleasures. Drinking Blood was thrilling enough at the moment. With whom should she even do such things? There was just one person at the moment with whom she could imagine such a thing, but… even thinking about this was inappropriate and wrong.

To be fair, Manon found the thought of the Prince being obsessed with anything, besides work or himself quite weird. She would have considered him simply too busy for such things, especially for romantic involvements. She thought back to yesterday’s social event, she had to attend at his side, remembering how flirty he had behaved then, but she quickly abandoned the thought. It was probably because he had drunk alcoholic blood, because this event stood in such a high contrast to how he normally was.  
It hurt a little, as she s, that this had probably just been a game for him. She had realized, that the feelings for the Prince, that had already started to blossom before her embrace were irrational, dangerous and would never be returned by the self-worshipping Ventrue. She should try her best to get over her little crush.

Carla, who seemed to have sensed her mood darken, tried to cheer her up.  
“Oh, don’t worry!” she smiled “Just try it out! On kine, if you want, it is a great way of feeding. They don’t even notice most of the time.”  
Manon scoffed in amusement.  
“And I definitely advise you at least once do it with a fellow Kindred.” She then added, wiggling her eyebrows. “Vampire sex is amazing.”  
She awkwardly giggled, but all of the sudden her phone buzzed.  
“Shit, LaCroix is probably wondering, where I am.” She muttered more to herself, as she checked her messenger app.  
The text wasn’t from her sire, but from Sam.  
Manon’s breath hitched as she read the words.

_Come to the Server Room quickly.  
We are in deep shit _

 

It took her just a few minutes until she reached the server room, unlocking the secure and heavy door with her keycard, pulling it open with force.  
It was dark inside, the only light came from a few blue and red glowing lamps on the machines, that filled the room with a constant hum.  
Her eyes quickly got used to the darkness.  
“Hello?” she asked “Sam?”  
“Manon?” she gasped and spun around, as Sam dropped his Obfuscate and revealed himself to her. Even though his expression was barely readable, due to his ugliness, he looked more than concerned.  
“Shit, Sam, don’t creep up at me like that!” she scoffed in relief, still recovering from her fright.  
“We don’t have any time to lose!” His voice sounded worried “There is something weird going on! I fear we are getting hacked!”  
Manon’s eyes went open wide.  
“Shit! How did this happen?” she followed him deeper into the server room, where he had already connected his notebook with some wires and cables to one of the servers.  
“I don’t know exactly.” He told her, scratching his grotesque bald head “But I think it has something to do with this mysterious blackout a few weeks ago.”  
“How?” she was confused, not really seeing the connection.  
“Think about it!” the Nosferatu typed something into the keyboard, his long fingernails clacking loudly against the plastic. “The security systems were out for just a few minutes, but this would be more than enough for someone to sneak in a run a malware on one of these.”  
He waved at the wall of servers.  
“You think so?” Manon wasn’t quite convinced yet. “Isn’t anyone from the IT available to help us?”  
“No! They are usually not on duty at night. I am the night shift.” Sam groaned “Usually it works out just fine, but…doesn’t matter… fact is, someone is running a virus that is stealing all our data! We need to locate it and exterminate this fucker!”  
“Reboot the servers!” she asked and he just moaned. “I’ve tried it, genius, it didn’t work. Just sit down and help me with this!”  
“Alright!” she agreed, taking off her blazer and sat down beside him, trying to ignore his odor, while concentrating on the task, that was at hand.  
This was a real cyberattack and even though this was horrible it was equally exciting, as she now would be able to apply, what she had learned at university.  
Soon she realized, that they were dealing with something worse than a simple virus. This thing took over their system. It was running programs, viruses and worms, erasing data on its way.  
“We are fucked!” Sam sighed, pressing his eyes shut “We are so, so fucked!”  
Manon pinched the bridge of her nose between her index finger and her thumb.  
“We need to take the whole network offline.” She concluded. “Then we just need to find the infected server.”  
Sam nodded. “They are probably going to hate us upstairs, but I couldn’t care less.”  
Manon entered something into the editor, requesting the shut down.  
“Shit!” Sam panicked “This thing is asking for a master code!”  
“Master Code?” Manon asked. “Who has it?”  
“Max!” he figured “You know, the ghoul from the administration? He should be still in the building! Go ask him!”  
Manon quickly jumped up from her seat and hurried towards the elevator. When she arrived at their floor, she hurried towards the room, where the ghouls were mostly during their lunch break.  
When she entered, all eyes were on her. There were two ghouls sitting there, having sandwiches.  
“Max from Administration?” she gasped breathlessly.  
“Second door, next to the man’s toilet!” a ginger man said, mustard stains around his mouth, and she was on her way.  
To her luck, Max was in his office.  
He was a stout looking man with scruffy cheeks and thick rimmed glasses, that used to be out of fashion for quite a while now.  
“Are you Max?” Manon was shaking “I need the Master Code!”  
He leaned back, seemingly surprised by her entering his room.  
“Sorry, Miss, but I am only allowed to give it to the head of IT!” he told her, which infuriated her.  
“Max!” she spoke and she felt something swinging in her voice, something new, something that seemed to flow through her blood, as she stared deep into Max’s eyes and she felt, that she was able to touch his mind with hers. “Give. Me. The. Code.”  
Manon didn’t recognize her voice as her own as she talked, seeing how Max’s face got dull, just like, when LaCroix had erased Gemma’s memory. For the first time, she was using the discipline of dominate and it felt addictive.  
“Yes, sure!” Max agreed and opened up a folder, that was on his desk, handing her a piece of paper with a 12 digit number.  
Quickly she pulled out her phone to call Sam.  
The Nosferatu picked up almost instantly.  
“Yes?”

“I’ve got it!” she yelped and started to read the code out loud to him.  
When she was finished, she could hear the blood running through her veins, her whole body shaking and she stopped breathing.  
“Okay, okay…” Sam muttered to himself, before he suddenly gasped.  
“What?” Manon now literally screamed into the phone, making Max, who had snapped out of his Dominate flinch.  
“It worked!” Sam cheered at the other line “It worked, Manon, our asses are safe! The network is offline!”  
She sighed in relief and closed her eyes.  
“Thanks.” She muttered at Max, who probably didn’t understand what had just happened and hurried down into the server room.

It took the two vampires one hour to finally locate the infected Server and exterminate the virus, so that they were able to be online as quickly as possible again.  
In the end, they felt like heroes, high fiving each other and Manon needed to remind herself to wash her hands later.  
Suddenly she received a text message.  
It was from Sebastian! It felt like her stomach made a backflip as she opened it.

_Come and see me asap!_

“The prince has summoned me!” she smiled, imagining how he would now praise her. They had successfully defended the company from an attack! After all, even the Prince would have to acknowledge that.  
This was the chance she had been waiting for, to prove to him that she was capable of more than deliveries and intern-work! That she was a skilled and valuable employee!  
She wished Sam a pleasant night, while she happily entered the elevator to get to the Penthouse Level, ready to meet LaCroix. She was going to make her sire proud.


	18. Cold as Ice

With a big smile on her face, she jogged up the staircase, content with herself.  
She had only studied those scenarios in theory and now really defending their system from a hacking attack had been more than exciting!  
She had finally put her skills to good use! This was better than being a delivery girl! Surely Sebastian had to admit that too.

“Where have you been?” she was greeted by his sharp voice, as she entered the office, still grinning.  
“I’ve been down in the server room!” she started out agitated “We were being hacked and I helped out Sam to stop the attack and-“  
“I asked you to pick up a letter!” he interrupted her, making her smile fall.  
“Yes, I did, here it is, I-“ she quickly fetched it out of her bag and handed it to him, which he snatched out of her hand. He seemed to be exceptionally bad-tempered tonight.  
“Do you know, that I have been waiting for this?” he continued, almost growling at her. “And there you are, running about instead of doing what you are told?”  
She blinked. Had he even listened to her? She had just told him about a cyber-attack, yet he continued to criticise her.  
“Sebastian, I just told you, our server was being under attack and we-“   
“But this wasn’t your task.” He told her, tilting his head, his eyes displaying cruelty. “You were supposed to deliver this letter.”  
Manon’s mouth dropped open. Was he being serious?   
“But I- we… we saved our system! There had been-“   
“Who do you think you are?” he snapped “You do what you are told.”  
She was speechless. Was the delivery of a letter that literally any other intern could have picked up more important than a task that saved the whole company and was a thing that she was trained and educated to perform?  
“With all respect-“ her fingers were shaking and his eyes met hers, making her flinch “I am a cyber security expert and I am trained to handle such situations.”  
She held eye contact and hoped she did everything right with that, but that turned out to be a mistake.  
These alluring blue eyes, suddenly she couldn’t look anywhere else and she felt like she was in trance. All the surroundings seemed to consist of smoke and didn’t matter, she couldn’t move or speak, everything was coated in a blue haze.  
“You will do what I tell you to do.”  
She was sure that she heard his words within her head, burning themselves into her mind.  
“Yes.” She echoed without her doing. No. He couldn’t dominate her now? Why would he do that?  
How could he!  
She tried to say something, but she couldn’t. No, this was not right. Why did he do this against her will?  
“Tell me, will you again not follow my request?” she heard his voice again.  
Her body wanted to tell him yes, but there was a tiny bit of her refusing. No, she didn’t want to promise him such a thing. She was still a person and entitled to a free will.  
No.  
No.  
“You try to fight it?” he scoffed, noticing her resistance “I’ve broken the minds of kings and generals before, so don’t even think that you can stand a chance against me.”  
The longer she held against him, the more her head started to hurt.   
No, she wouldn’t give up, she needed to go on, he couldn’t do this to her.  
It felt like he drilled a hole into her head, filling it with acid. Bloody sweat started to cover her forehead, her limbs shook and were stiff, the pain spreading through her body.  
He lifted an eyebrow, sardonically chuckling.  
“You are holding up pretty well, for a fledgling, I have to admit, but I haven’t even started.”  
The pain only got stronger and her vision started to turn dark at the edges.   
“No…” her lips formed the word and she noticed how she needed all her powers to do so. She hadn’t known that Dominate could hurt so bad, if you tried to resist.  
Beside the pain and hurt another feeling started to spread through her system and dull her thoughts.  
Anger.

“You will not talk to me like that!” she managed to wince.  
“I will talk to you however I please!” LaCroix replied.  
“I am warning you…” she hissed, his discipline still plaguing her mind.  
The Prince laughed coldly.  
“You are warning me? My sweet girl, do you know who you are talking to?”  
“Apparently a child who hasn’t learned yet, that no means no!” suddenly everything she had felt the last weeks emanated out of her mind. She didn’t care anymore, this just had been too much. How could he be treating her like that?  
“I am not letting you abuse me!”  
“Abuse?” he snared “I am teaching you a lesson!”  
“You are not my parent!” she growled, collapsing on the floor as the pain was too much to take.  
“…Stop,… please, stop…” she winced, not able to get up, her hands pressed against her head, trying to fight it. It hurt, it hurt so bad, she couldn’t bring up enough strength to resist this assault of her mind. Crimson tears build at the corners of her eyes, and she started to pull at her own hair, in hope that would ease the pain that was shooting through her brain.  
“I beg you… stop…”  
“What?” from one moment to the other the pain stopped, she could think straight again, the blue haze was completely gone, but she still felt physically exhausted.  
Manon tried to get up again, terribly scared.  
She dared to look up, only to see his stone cold expression that enraged her even more. How could he still have this god forsaken smug smile across his handsome face?  
This bastard!

“I swear to you, if you ever dominate me again, I will leave! I will join the anarchs and-“ she babbled in pain, but he interrupted her with a crude snare.  
“And what? You think I will let you threaten me like this?”  
“Would you at least let me finish?” she yelled, blood running down her cheeks, landing on the polished wooden floor.  
“What…? Let you finish? With whom do you presume you’re speaking with?” he snapped, his voice piercing like an icy blade.  
“I hate you!” she suddenly shouted, trying her best to get up, but her attempt remained without success. “I hate you, Sebastian and I wish I had never met you!”  
She heard him inhale with a hissing sound, but he remained silent. She had for once managed to shut him up at last.  
Manon sobbed and buried her face in her hands.  
“I… I didn’t realize that this was –“ she heard his voice, much calmer than before.  
“It is!” she whined “It is… and when you dominate me… I feel defiled and dishonoured…”  
“You…” he began, but she continued “You violate my mind and I cannot… I cannot…”  
She cried and cried, the stress of the last months finally taking its toll on her. That he had used this discipline of her in such a disrespectful way had just been the last straw.  
“Why do you treat people like this?”  
She noticed how he had approached her slowly until he stood directly in front of her.  
“Get up.” She heard his commanding voice and she looked up and saw that he had his hand reached out. “Please…” he added half heartily. His expression showed the usual disinterest but his eyes seemed centuries old.  
She didn’t take his hand and eventually managed to get up on her shaking knees. He tried to touch her shoulder but she jerked away, wrapping her arms around her torso.  
“Please, take the rest of the night off.” He told her, before he reached into his pocket and took his phone out. LaCroix swiped over the screen and held it against his ear.  
“Yes, Miss Lovett needs a ride home. She will be down in a few minutes.”

She turned around and basically fled the room.   
“Good night.” She heard his voice, sounding soft and apologetic, before she closed the door behind her.

As she entered back into the hallway, where the others had the office, Manon had done her best to wipe away her tears, but she felt that even more blood was leaking out of her eyes. She hurried through over the marble floor and tried not to get noticed by the other Camarilla kindred.  
Grimly she aimed towards the elevator, but then she heard someone call her.  
“Manon?” the soft female voice belonged to Carla, who had followed her and came to a hold next to Manon, who looked onto the floor, so the other one wouldn’t notice her tear stained face.  
“Is everything alright?” she asked worried, but Manon just quickly tried to pull herself together.  
“Yes…” the Ventrue lied and had to swallow hard to not burst into tears “Everything is great…”  
Mindlessly she pressed the button of the elevator, still not daring to look into the Toreador’s eyes.  
Carl clicked her tongue against her palette in a disapproving fashion, tilting her head, so her red curls bobbed a little.

“I can clearly see, that you are not…” she whispered, her hand grabbing Manon’s shoulder “Why are you crying?”  
With a ding sound the elevator arrived and the doors opened. Manon took a relieved step forward to step into the elevator chamber, to her dread with Carla following her.  
The doors closed behind her, and finally Manon couldn’t hold it in any longer.  
She covered her face with her hands, starting to sob again.  
“Shhh…” Carla just made and pulled the other woman into a hug, holding her tight, as the cries shook her body.  
“What is going on?” she calmly asked, softly stroking over her back.

“He used Dominate on me …” Manon whispered through her tears. “Do you know what Sam and I had done tonight? There was a virus in our system and we… we got rid of it and now he is... he still treats me like shit…I mean, he just was pissed because I didn’t deliver this letter I had to pick up straight away… We saved our data, but he doesn’t care…”

“Oh God…honey, listen…” Carla started out, her finger wiping away a tear on Manon’s cheek. “The Prince is… well, he is a Ventrue of a certain age, and sometimes they are just not… well, not used to someone disobeying… because they use Dominate so often, they tend often not to accept no as an answer.”  
“Tz!” Manon scoffed angrily “That is a petty excuse. So it doesn’t count what I want? Just because he can’t handle rejection?”  
“That is not what I’m saying!” Carla tried to calm her down again “Just… try to tell him how you feel about it – that you don’t want him to do it anymore… I’m sure he will listen.”  
“I did tell him!” Manon protested “I told him, that he was assaulting my mind!”  
Carla’s eyes went wide, as she herself probably would never dare to speak up to the Prince like that.  
“And?” she wanted to know “What did he say?”  
“He just sent me home…” Manon answered powerlessly, wiping her face with the back of her hand.  
Carla bit her lip deep in thought.  
“I just… I can’t tolerate his moods any longer! Why is it, that every time something is a minor inconvenience he throws a tantrum like an angry toddler?”  
The other one didn’t answer, as she probably knew herself, that Manon was right.  
“I- I just want to go home now and think…” the Ventrue spoke, more to herself than to her friend “I don’t know if I will come back tomorrow.”  
“What?” Carla seemed panicked. “You can’t do this to me!”  
Manon sighed deeply and gathered her thoughts.  
“I’ll probably be there…” she then confessed “Because I am a coward and I don’t know where else to go.”  
The elevator doors opened up at the ground floor and she hugged Carla one more time, before she got out, passed the atrium and looked for the driver that would take her home.  
Her tears had already dried, when she arrived at her apartment. Angrily she threw her handbag on the floor and carelessly slipped out of her high heels. Stupid shoes, they were not only uncomfortable but decreased her walking speed immensely. Also they made this stupid clacking noise that even got on her own nerves. They looked good though.  
After she had undressed and taken a shower, she slipped into her pyjama. It wasn’t one of the frilly silk things Carla had picked out for her, when they had been shopping with the Prince what seemed like an eternity ago, but one of the pieces of clothing she had brought with her from the time she had been alive.

It was a pair of baggy pyjama pants with little cats printed on them and a Queens of the Stone Age shirt she had once bought at a concert a couple of years ago.  
This bastard probably wanted to dictate what she should wear when she was sleeping, that she could imagine.  
Anger filled her again, as she made her way to the fridge and opened it up, looking for her dinner. There were still a few blood packs left and she was thankful for it, as she wasn’t at all in the mood for going out on a hunt.  
A bit too enthusiastically, she emptied to content of one into a big mug, spilling a bit of it into the sink by accident.  
The used blood pack landed in the bin and after taking a sip of vitae she walked back into her living room, taking a seat on the couch. This apartment was just not her, to be quite frank. The furniture was new and had been probably pretty expensive, but here she felt like foreign matter.  
She had tried to give it character by hanging up pictures and decorating, but it still felt like this was just an extended domain of the prince, even though it looked nothing like his usual environment. This was no place she could call home in all honesty. But it was a very nice flat, located in a good area with a security guard at the ground floor, who checked on every person entering. Probably LaCroix owned more apartments in this building and she had never seen any neighbours so far, probably because they were already gone out of asleep at the times Manon was using the hallway or the elevator.

Suddenly she heard the door bell. Who could that be at this hour? It took her just a moment to reach the door.  
“Mercurio?” she asked surprised, after looking through the door spy. Quickly she opened up, to greet the ghoul.  
“Good night, Manon!” he smiled, tilting his head “How are you doing?”  
“Fine, fine…” she lied and shook her head smiling “Do you want to come in?”  
“Oh, no, but thank you! I’m in a bit of a hurry.” he brushed a hand through his hair and reached into the pocket of his jacket. “I was just stopping by, because the master asked me to give you this.” He handed her a small and flat box, that was wrapped in elegant black paper and tied with a dark red ribbon, that was made into a neatly bow. A present?  
“What is this?” she turned the parcel in her hand. It was pretty light. “Well, I don’t know, LaCroix just told me to give this to you at the highest priority.”  
“Highest priority?” she repeated, pulling a disgusted grimace at the present. What was he thinking? Did he honestly believe that he could buy her back with gifts?

“So, I hope you have a good night!” he told her, wanting to leave, but before he could protest, she pulled him into a hug.  
“Thank you, Mercurio… for everything.” she whispered against his chest. The ghoul was surprised and overwhelmed, but then he patted her head gently, before she pulled back.  
“Is it so bad?” he asked, his voice a little lower. Manon just wiped a hand over her face and shook her head briefly. “It’s… it’s nothing I can’t bare…”  
He sighed putting one hand onto her shoulder.  
“I know LaCroix can be a dick sometimes, but what has he done now, that it makes you so sad?”  
Manon sighed and wagered if she should really tell him. After all, he was one of the few people in her new existence that she actually trusted. “I don’t really want to talk about it…” she then decided to say “It’s just… you know… just Ventrue things.”  
The ghoul chuckled. “Just Ventrue things? I know… if there is anything I can do for you, or… if you change your mind and need someone to talk, you know where to find me.”  
He smiled, before he gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze.  
“So long, Manon.” He grinned, before he turned around and left.  
The Ventrue went inside and closed the door, staring at the dreaded package in her hand.   
The way it looked, disgusted her – so neatly wrapped, the paper expensive as well, even though it would land in some trash can eventually. For a moment she imagines Prince LaCroix with loads of wrapping paper in his office, tying this almost manufactured looking bow on the tiny package, but then he had probably have a ghoul do it.  
This fop! Who did he think he was! And this attempt into getting on her good graces again was more than pitiful. How could he think a present would sway her mind?  
Out of an impulse she brutally threw it against the wall, where is fell to the ground with a light sound. This son of a bitch!

Maybe Jane had been right. The way that Carla had demonized the woman had seemed odd to her, but maybe she had also just been a victim of Sebastian LaCroix. Not unlike Manon, she supposed. Out in the open, he was charming, a true gentleman, but behind closed doors, he was another person, cruel, unsympathetic and sadistic.  
Did he even knew what empathy was?  
Maybe he had forgotten it during the centuries, she supposed that after years and years of seeing other people just as foes or worse, a food source, you would become cold as ice. His personality had reared its ugly head once more and she had to admit that she had been fooled by his handsome face and his carefully chosen words.

How could he think that a present would make her forgive him? Perhaps it wasn’t her forgiveness he was seeking. Maybe he tried to fool her. After all, was she anything more to him than a pawn, he used in his dark game of intrigues? Or perhaps a doll, to dress up, hanging from his arm at social events like a really nice handbag? Was having a pretty childe a status symbol amongst Ventrue? Amongst Toreadors, she knew it was, but then, what was the real reason he had sired her, if he thought that she was incompetent? Or did he just want someone to break and to abuse, someone who did everything wrong, so he could scold her? His behaviour confused her, but more so, it made her angry. Who did he think he was? All this talk about ‘I am your sire and you owe my respect’ was losing any substance it ever had. If he was her sire, he should start acting like one! He didn’t teach her anything at all, all she did at the tower was work an intern would have to do! She figured that it was just because of his vampiric nature, that he didn’t ask her to cook coffee for him. Was he just blind to her skills? Or did he just not care?  
She couldn’t stand it to be honest.  
And she couldn’t stand him.

How ironic, that just a few hours ago, she had had the biggest crush on him.  
But tonight LaCroix had shown his true colours and revealed the monster that he always hid behind the pale, exalted mask.


	19. Beat and Pulse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took so long! I hope I can update the next chapter sooner :)

Manon tucked a strand of hair that had fallen out of her updo behind her ear, as she hurried through the hallway, her bag clutched under her shoulder. She was just a little late, nothing more, those thirty seconds wouldn’t bother anybody. But then again her boss was a 200 year old vampire, so she wasn’t too sure about this. Nevertheless, she stopped in front of the meeting room, taking a deep breath. It would be difficult again to pretend that she was fully human, even though this was possibly easier for her than for other Vampires she had get to known. Politely she knocked two times at the door, before she opened it up a little and slipped into the room.  
“Good evening.” She stated with a firm voice, as the present executives turned around to the intruder. “I apologize for the delay.” LaCroix, who sat at the end of the table and had been glancing into his phone looked up and greeted her with a smile. “Miss Lovett! Great you are finally here. No harm done!”  
She didn’t mirror his smile and took a seat far away from him, next to Claude, who was fidgeting with his pen, opening up her laptop to write everything down as the last time.  
She noticed her sire’s eyes on her, but she didn’t respond to it any further.  
“Oh how great it is, indeed.” Claude leaned over to her, mimicking Sebastian’s accent in a low voice, so only she could hear him.   
The woman supressed a light chuckle and opened up the notes from last time.

The meeting was better than the last time, apparently the men had lost interest into verbally harassing her. She didn’t know why, maybe her presence had kicked in without her doing, which was supposed to happen with vampires, skilled in this particular discipline from time to time.  
Still,… it was dull and when she looked at Claude, she saw that he had started to doodle on his notepad.   
She watched him draw something that looked like the bastard of a bear and an elephant, as LaCroix’s voice pulled her out of her train of thoughts.  
“And for the matter of our transport route, my personal assistant had presented me a brilliant idea recently on how we can close the breach in our system.” This made her look up, and their eyes met, a weak smile across his face, that didn’t reach his eyes as usual.  
“Oh did she?” one of the men chuckled “I didn’t know this piece of ass came with a brain as well” some other men at the table started to chuckle, making her bite the inner of her cheek and stare into her laptop again.  
“Is that what you really think, Bill?” she heard the Ventrue’s voice.  
Bill cleared his throat, not quite knowing what to answer now. “Hehe, you know… just joking a little around.” He grinned, but his grin quickly faded from his face, as he was confronted with LaCroix’s stone cold expression.  
“So, you think this is amusing, do you?” he asked Bill calmly “Does anyone else find this equally amusing?” No one dared to say a word, intimidated by this young looking man’s presence.   
“I tell you something, and it is not a joke. This woman graduated top of her class in IT, she can code in seven different languages and can possibly find out what the password to your personal email account is in less than twenty minutes.” He stood up and leaned onto the table top. “I will not condone any more of these raunchy and sexist comments against my assistant, understood?”  
The men were silent. No one dared to say something against it.  
As Manon lifted her head, he searched for her eyes and she even held his gaze for a brief moment, before she faced the screen again. “This is awkward.” Claude commented discretely, leaning back in his chair.

After two hours the meeting was finally over and as soon as the other men got up, Manon started to pack her bag and disappeared through the door onto the hallway.  
She wasn’t in the mood for small talk or anything, she was still angry about last night. But he apparently thought that he could smile it all away.  
This horrible false grin of his, she wanted to slap it off his face. Nothing about him was genuine.  
“Manon?” she suddenly heard his voice, making her turn her head, seeing him exiting the meeting room as well.  
She ignored him and continued on her way, but he quickly caught up to her.  
“Ça va bien?” he had the nerve to question and it made her even more enraged and a bit confused to be honest. Was he trying to be charming? He knew that her mother had been French, so did he just try to appeal to her that way? He never even asked her how she was, so why starting now?  
“Yes, fine.” She mumbled, but continued her way, without looking at him. She wasn’t falling for his bait.  
“Has Mercurio delivered the package?” he asked her, hurrying so he was walking beside her. “Yes.” She just commented, trying to look as cold and unimpressed as possible.  
He was silent for a brief moment.  
“And?”  
Manon bit her lower lip “Well, I haven’t opened it yet.” She informed him “Is there anything else tonight, you need me to take care of, besides the summary of the meeting?”  
“No, no…” he shook his head. “That will be all. You can go home, if you want to…”  
“Good night…” she nodded respectfully, before she went straight to the elevator.  
To her misery he followed her and waited with her for the cabin to arrive.  
They stood next to each other not daring to exchange looks, both of them awkwardly staring at the closed elevator door.  
“I hope tonight’s meeting has been more pleasant for you?” he suddenly asked her.  
She didn’t answer.  
“I know, those men are horrible, something had to be done-“ he continued but Manon turned her head to throw a glare at him.  
“This changes nothing!” she interrupted him, before staring at the tip of her shoes again.  
The elevator opened with a light ding and she stepped inside, he again following her.  
Sebastian pressed the button for the ground floor, before the doors shut again. The light was yellowish and made her look sickish. Why were there so many mirrors in this elevator anyways? Now it was even harder to not look at him.  
“You are welcome.” He suddenly commented, his voice dripping with arrogance and sarcasm.  
Manon took a deep breath, before she turned to him again.  
“I didn’t ask you to stand up for me!” she hissed aggressively, her fingers clenching tighter around her bag. “I don’t need my big bad boss to handle the mean bullies for his little assistant!”  
He scoffed humourlessly, a spiteful smile on his lips, yet his eyes remained completely cold.  
“Oh, you think I did this for you?” he leaned forward a bit, his arms crossed in front of his chest, tilting his head “They criticize my choice of assistant, they criticize me, and this is nothing a worthless kine will ever do. Don’t flatter yourself, I couldn’t care less if you run crying to the bathroom again after a meeting.”  
Manon exhaled loudly. How did he know? This comment had been hurtful and unnecessary.   
With her lips pressed tight together she fought the inner urge to just slap his face. That would have felt good, she imagined.  
Lucky for her, the doors opened up at the ground floor and she could finally leave this situation.  
“I wish you a pleasant night.” She nodded briefly, her voice cold and emotionless.  
“Thank you, you too.” She heard him answer in an equally cold manner, before she hurried out of the cabin and passed officer Chunk’s desk to get out into the night.

This asshole. This fucking prick! Who did he think he was?  
Angrily she was on her way home, still supressing her tears. She managed to get home without crying, but as soon as she had locked the door behind her, she threw herself onto the sofa and cried it out, staining her ivory coloured pillows. 

The bad thing about being awake during night time, was that there wasn’t anything good on TV.  
Currently she rewatched the same bad 90s TV movie she had already seen last week.   
But somehow this was a good way to distract herself from the current issues with her horrible sire.  
Her phone rang and she almost suspected to be LaCroix bothering her again about his stupid present, that was still laying on the floor of her living room. She gave the wrapped package a glare, before she picked her phone up.  
It wasn’t LaCroix but Carla  
“Wanna go on a hunt?” she asked.  
“Not really.” Manon moaned lulling on the sofa. She was already in pyjamas and had a fridge full of blood packs, so why go out now?

“Come on!” the Toreador tried to persuade her “There is a really good DJ at the Asylum tonight!”  
The Asylum? Wasn’t this the Elysium of the baron of Santa Monica? This very classy Malkavian woman? What was her name again, Therese?  
She thought about it for a moment.  
“Alright.” Manon finally gave in, remembering the few times she had been to this club when she was alive. It wasn’t as posh at the places she went with her sire or the usual Toreador parties and she missed going somewhere that was a little shabby.  
“Great!” Carla cheered. “Wear something red! That’s tonight’s motto!” with that she hung up.  
Something red? Shit!

 

Finding something red in her closet now after Sebastian had bought her all of these black clothes was quite a challenge, but she decided to wear one of the dresses from before her embrace, which was out of red velvet and which she had already worn at her graduation. With that she wore her Louboutin pumps, which were black, but had their signature red sole, knowing that Carla would approve of this choice.  
After brushing her hair and putting a necklace with a tiny pearl on, she was ready to go.

The Asylum was crowded and it took her a moment to find Carla within the masses of people wearing red.   
Finally she saw her, wearing a beautiful crimson dress with a fitting fur collar, standing next to Ernest, who was dressed in a red Shakespearian ensemble, that looked incredible good on him, except perhaps for the fake moustache, that didn’t really match his hair colour.  
“Great you made it!” Karla hugged Manon, giving her a kiss onto her cheek.   
“Good night, my dear princess!” Ernest greeted her by doing a bow, almost knocking the drink of the person behind him out of their hands.  
In the last months these two people had really grown on her and so to her own surprise she managed to let go, enjoy the music and have a good time.  
The DJ was really great and after an hour of dancing she was so spent that she had to get outside for a bit of fresh air.  
“This party is amazing!” she told Ernest, who had followed her. The man just nodded, leaning against the wall of the building, seemingly exhausted as well.   
“Glad you like it!” Someone said next to her, and as she looked to her side, she saw Therese. But for some reason tonight there was something strange about her. She wore her hair in two pigtails, that looked odd with the glittering red dress, that almost reached her knees and the patent leather boots. When she had met her the first time, she would have never guessed that this stuck up women would dress as extravagant as this.  
“Oh, hello!” Manon nodded respectfully and offered the woman her hand. “How are you?”  
The Malkavian hesitated.  
“Jeanette!” she introduced herself. What?  
“Jeanette?” Manon was confused, as the women shook her hand. “Yes, and this giddy place is my club.”  
“Wait, but…” she didn’t know what to say. “I… I thought… wasn’t your name Therese?”  
Suddenly the other one rolled her eyes.  
“Ugh, seems like you already met my sister!” the woman sighed, letting go of her head.  
Sister? This explained a lot.  
“Sorry!” Manon apologized “It seems I have mistaken you for her!”  
“No harm done!” the other one made a gesture with her hand. “Ernest!” she suddenly turned to the other Malkavian “Nice to see you here! You don’t come as often since you hang out in Hollywood.”  
“I am terribly sorry, daughter of Janus!” he made another bow, that made the blond woman giggle.  
“Aren’t you cute as a button!” she laughed.   
“Jeanette!” Carla, who had just got out as well, greeted the woman with a friendly smile. “How are you?”  
“Dreadful!” she stated, after hugging the redhead “My dear sister decided to spend a huge amount of money to buy the Ocean House hotel, thinking she could build the place up again and make a fortune with it.”  
Carla cringed. “The Ocean House Hotel?” she gasped “How could anyone…”  
“What is the Ocean House Hotel?” Manon suddenly asked, making the other three look up.  
“You don’t know?” Jeanette asked, honestly concerned.  
“Sorry…” the Ventrue stepped from one foot to the other “I am… new to the club.”  
“Oh!” Jeanette made “I know who you are! You are LaCroix’s new baby.”  
Awkwardly, she scratched the back of her head “I’m not a baby…” she protested, making everyone laugh.  
“No, it’s alright!” the blonde laughed “But to answer your question, the Ocean House Hotel is a doomed place. Horrible spirit infestation.”  
“Spirits?” she was confused “As in ghosts?”  
The other vampires burst out into laughter.

“So this is the famous Ocean House Hotel.” Manon stated, as the three of them stood on the beach in the moonlight.  
“Yep.” Ernest nodded, his eyes focused on the old building, that stood there like it was made out of stone.  
“Is it really haunted?” the Ventrue inquired and Carla nodded in honesty.  
“It is super-haunted.” She confirmed.  
Manon blinked. “Super-haunted? Is this worse than… regular haunted?”  
“Indeed!” she whispered “Do you even know what happened here?”  
The other shook her head and the Toreador clapped her hands happily, as she was about to spread some gossip.  
“When it had it’s grand opening in 1958, there was a family who stayed there. During their stay, the husband went mad and thought his wife had an affair. He murdered her with an axe and also killed their children. They found the boy’s head in a washing machine and the girl was chopped up like fire wood. Then there was a devastating fire. Therese is insane, if she thinks she can build up this place! No offense, Ernest…”  
“None taken…” the Malkavian stated. “She is insane.”  
Suddenly they started laughing.

“So, what are you going to do about the Prince?” Carla then asked. Manon shrugged and pulled her jacket tighter around her body.  
“I don’t know. What should I do?” she then added sadly. Spending time with her friends had made her almost forget about her troubles with her sire.  
“I feel like he doesn’t respect me. At all. Like I am just a tool for him to use. Which I probably am. Are all sires like this?”  
Carla shook her head.  
“No. You know Claude, he is one of the nicest people I know.”  
“Claude is your sire?” Manon gasped, honestly surprised by the revelation.  
Carla nodded. “We fell in love during the 1930s. I was an actress, just having starred in a few movies, when I met him at a party. A few months later he embraced me. We’ve been together since.”  
“Oh!” the Ventrue made. It hadn’t occurred to her, that the two were involved. But they have been together for almost 90 years now, if she had counted correctly. Maybe it was because they were Toreadors who were generally more in touch with their humanity than the other clans.  
“You didn’t know.” The other one smirked. “We like to have it that way. What we do is none of the Camarillas concern. Only a few know. You too, now.”  
She softly smiled. “Thanks for trusting me with this. Who else knows?”  
Carla clicked her tongue. “Ernest here, some of the Toreadors, Isaac of course, he never approved of Claude becoming Seneschall, and naturally the Prince.” 

“I don’t like his aura…” Ernest suddenly threw in. “The Prince’s I mean.”  
“How?” Carla asked, turning her head at him.  
“Black veins… never a good sign…”  
“What do black veins mean?” Manon inquired.  
Carla laughed. “That’s preposterous! I don’t see black veins in his aura.”  
“I do… sometimes. He hides it well.” Ernest crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
“For any of us who are not able to use Auspex – what do black veins mean?”  
“It’s ridiculous!” Carla continued.  
“Diablerie.” He then revealed.  
“Oh.” Manon didn’t know what to say, but deep down she knew that the Malkavian could be right about it.  
Truth was at the current moment she trusted Sebastian as far as she could throw a cruise ship.


	20. Catharsis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so bad for not updating sooner, so here have another chapter.

Tonight, she was late again. Yesternight had been intense and so she overslept.  
But as she looked at the glowing digits on her phone, and saw, that she should have gotten up half an hour ago, she couldn’t care less.   
Why even bother anymore? She didn’t want to go to work anyway. What was in for her this time? Take some stupid letter to deliver to some stupid vampire?   
As she clicked through her email program, she noticed, that there was an event scheduled for her, by of course, LaCroix.  
“Weekly meeting.” It said and it would happen in about an hour.  
Weekly meeting? They had never had a weekly meeting before? What was this supposed to mean? Why start now? Or maybe he just wanted her to run another errand?  
With an annoyed sigh she got up and got ready. It took her longer than usual, probably because every fibre of her body was averse to getting to Venture Tower and the posh asshole that ruled over it. 

She left the building a few minutes before the scheduled meeting, but it didn’t matter to her. He had been horrible the night before and she was not ready to forgive him for that. It only added onto the huge pile of mean things he had said and done.  
After rushing past Chunk, who was again sleeping at his desk, she got into the elevator, the very one where he had insulted her last night.  
When she got out at the office floor, she tried her best to look busy, but fortunately none of the other vampires attempted to start a conversation with her. Carla’s desk was deserted, as she was probably still recovering from last night’s party.  
Quickly she passed through the door, climbing up the stairs until she stood in front of LaCroix’s portal.

The door was opened a bit, but as she wanted to enter, she could hear a voice talking, and so she decided to eavesdrop a little bit.  
The voice belonged to Claude.  
“How is your little princess?” Claude asked, earning an annoyed groan, supposedly from the Prince.  
“Don’t ask!” he answered, followed by Claude’s laughter.  
“Is it really that bad?”  
“To be honest, being sire is harder than I imagined it to be…” she heard LaCroix speak.  
The Toreador giggled. “Oh, doesn’t she eat her vegetables?”  
Sebastian didn’t answer at first, but then he sighed.  
“She is just so… so… disobedient!” he finally told the seneschal, who laughed.  
“Admit it, you like that about her!” he replied, earning a slight chuckle.  
“You are right.” He gave in after a moment. “But nevertheless, she has to listen to me in order to learn the laws to which this organisation bends. Those are crucial things for a Ventrue to know. And I can’t teach her, if she refuses to talk to me anymore.”  
“If you wanted a woman who listened to you, you should have embraced 60 years ago already.” Claude sounded amused.  
“Did you just come her to gloat at my misery?” he asked aggressively, the Toreador only laughing in return.  
“Quite the opposite, I am afraid. You are her sire, Sebastian, start acting like one!” Claude suggested.  
Manon could hear LaCroix snort with great disrespect. “What am I supposed to do, spank her?”  
The Toreador laughed. “Only if she likes it, but that’s not what I meant… listen to her, show that you actually care… you wouldn’t have embraced her, if she didn’t make an impression on you. Be… sensitive for once. Apologize! I am sure, she will forgive you, if you mean it.”  
Both men were silent for a moment.  
“Since when did you become an expert on women, Claude?” the Ventrue asked in a mocking tone.  
“Hmm, let me think…” the other began, his voice more than sarcastic “Maybe, because I have been actually talking to a few during the last decade?”  
They fell silent again, Manon’s hand was already on the handle of the door, not pressing it down.  
She was gathering the courage to enter, as she heard the Prince raise his voice again.  
“Speaking of it, she should be already here by now.”   
She took a deep breath, before she decided to enter the room.  
As she slipped through the door, the eyes of both vampires were on her.  
“Good night.” Manon spoke politely, smiling at Claude.  
“You are late.” LaCroix greeted her and she rolled his eyes at him.  
“So?” Manon spat, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  
“Could you please stop acting this silly?” he clicked his tongue “Are you five?”  
“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing!” her voice sounded sharper than usual.  
This had been a really strong move, openly disrespecting him in front of a Toreador.  
The prince blinked a few times. Claude, who was sitting on a sofa, had put down the book he had been reading in, curiously watching the scene.  
“You are insufferable.” He spoke, glaring at his childe.  
“Why did you embrace me then?” the thing she had been asking herself for quite some time now, rolled off her tongue.  
“What?” he seemed honestly confused by her question.  
“Why did you embrace me, if I am so insufferable?”  
They glared at each other, holding eye contact. Would he dare dominating her in front of Claude?

Claude sat up from the antique sofa.   
“Ugh, just fuck already and let’s get on with it!” he muttered, his voice full of annoyance and he shook his head at the two arguing Ventrue.  
LaCroix shot a glance at him and if looks could kill, the Toreador would have surely have dropped dead at the spot.  
“Claude.” He said in a calm voice “Would you please leave us alone?”  
The Seneschal laughed and stood up, shaking his head one more time, before he left the office without a word.  
As soon as the doors closed, his eyes focused on her again.  
“I listen…” he almost growled, his voice controlled.  
Manon clenched her fists, before she could let go of everything she wanted to tell him.  
“Tell me then, what is the reason you have sired me in the first place?” her brows were knitted together and her whole body was tensed as she yelled at him the question she asked herself for a long time. “Especially if I am just an inconvenience for you?”  
LaCroix shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand it, you are too young…”  
“Tell me, why!” her voice grew louder and she revealed her sharp fangs at him, against her will.  
“Calm down…” he threw in quietly “Your beast is showing.”  
“Hell, Sebastian, who even cares!” she threw her hands in the air, frustrated.   
“What is your problem?” he hissed angrily.  
“What my problem is?” she laughed sarcastically “You are my problem!”  
He briefly lifted his eyebrows, looking as arrogant and lofty as ever, making her even more furious.  
“You don’t like me.” He waved his hands, as if this was just a trivial occurrence to him “I can be a bit harsh at times, but you must remember – the responsibility of this city’s kindred rests on my shoulders. So naturally I cannot always be a patient man.”  
Again there was this self-sufficient tone swinging in his voice, that made her explode.

“You self centred sociopath! You are a deceptive maggot! You behave in a way, that utterly disgusts me, when you treat others like shit, like they don’t even matter! You are so full of yourself, it is unbelievable! What are we to you, just pawns? Pets?”  
As she approached him steadily, she witnessed him backing away slightly, until he reached the edge of his desk and couldn’t bring more distance between the two of them.  
“I could diablerize you right at the spot for this, you stupid girl!” he threatened and now his fangs were visible as well. He looked horrifying, Manon had to admit, that she was scared by this.  
Normally she would have begged him for forgiveness but this time, she had enough. She thought about what Ernest had told her last night and after this threat she was ready to fully believe this accusation now.  
“Then do it!” she provoked “Do it already, as clearly this is the way you solve all of your problems, isn’t it, Sebastian?”  
She couldn’t react in time, as his hand suddenly surged forward, wrapping around her neck, lifting her up a little, his grip strong and firm, enough to snap the neck of any human.  
“How dare you talk to me like that?” he growled at her, his eyes almost glowing like the pits of hell. “How dare you accusing me of something like this in my domain? You seem to have forgotten who you are talking to!”  
Manon choked, her fingers clawing into his hands, scratching him so hard, that she drew blood, the scent of it suddenly surrounding her like a haze.  
As if he had just realized what he was doing, he quickly sat her down onto her feet again, letting go of her.  
Manon exhaled shakily, not believing what had just happened.  
“Manon…” he spoke, reaching out for her, but she pushed his hand away.  
“Don’t touch me!” she screamed “If you ever lay hands upon my again, I… I…”  
What was she supposed to do then? She was just a weak fledgling, no match for such a powerful and old vampire and he very well knew that.  
“I am sorry!” she heard his voice, sounding soft and apologetic.  
What? Did he really say that?  
The woman looked at him with big eyes, not quite believing what she had just heard.  
“I apologize.” He repeated a little firmer. “I shouldn’t have… this was very inappropriate…”  
A few days ago, she would have accepted his apology, but tonight she had other plans.  
“See?” she hissed “That’s what I mean! You behave like this all the time, you hurt people, you see us as lesser.”  
“I apologized!” his voice had found it’s sharpness again.  
“So, you think that it makes it all forgotten?” she snapped. “If I had been human you would have killed me!”  
He wanted to say something but she interrupted him, again taking steps towards him.  
“You can’t just throw a tantrum everytime you don’t get your will! I will not have you treat me like this anymore! I am not afraid of you!”  
He stared at her a moment, as if she had just slapped him, his mouth slightly agape, braced against the desk behind him.  
“No one has talked to me like that for over 200 years!” he growled at her.  
“Well, who would have guessed?” she mocked him “Explains why you have the mental maturity of a toddler!”  
With that she turned away, wanting to leave, before she heard him call her, but she ignored him,  
“Manon!” he spoke again, in a firm voice, as she didn’t react. “Look at me.”  
She stopped dead in her tracks.  
“No way! So you can dominate me again? Do you think I am stupid?” the woman told him, her back still facing him.  
He sighed.  
“Well sometimes I do!” His voice sounded exhausted all of the sudden.  
“What?” this was too much for her.   
“You stand here and bite the hand that feeds you!” he explained, his jaw stiff.  
“The hand that…” she rolled her eyes “You don’t mean yourself by that?”

“You are ungrateful…” he commented “I gave you immortality and pulled you out of this miserable existence and this is how you thank me?”

She couldn’t believe it.  
“I had a life before all of this!” she protested, almost growling.

“Oh, shut up!” LaCroix interrupted her scornfully “You did not have a life.”  
“I did!” as she spoke she felt, that her fangs had grown out again, almost hurting her tongue on the sharp tips.

“You call that a life?” he chuckled, but it sounded cruel. “You asked me why I chose you for the embrace. I tell you why- because you are nothing.”

She blinked, her mouth falling open.  
“What?” she breathed.

With a vile grin he continued:  
“That's why I chose you. It is quite hard to find someone in the digital age, who has no social record. I watched you for a while, Manon. It was so easy, I could take you away without anybody noticing or missing you. No clubs, no sport team, no friends, no lover, no colleagues, no siblings, a dead mother and a father who doesn’t even talk to you anymore-“

This was the moment that made her snap. She didn’t know how, but she experienced the moment as if she was looking over somebody else’s shoulder. Her hand went up, her fingers already in a tight fist, as she hit him in the face with all the force she could gather.  
A moment too late, she realized what she had done, after a disgusting crack signalled her, that she had apparently broken his nose. He covered the lower half of his face with his hand, his big blue eyes staring at her offended, blood dripping down his chin, falling onto the antique carpet.  
Shit. The sweet smell of his vitae filled the air, making her almost dizzy, but maybe it was just the adrenaline rush?  
What had she just done?  
This was trouble.  
Before he could react, she quickly turned on her heel and stormed out the office, trying to get out of the building before any of the others would notice that she had just assaulted the Prince.  
She rushed past Claude, who had obviously been eavesdropping outside of the door, down the staircase, Carla, who now sat at the welcome desk until she reached the elevator, frantically pushing the button. Luckily she the elevator came quickly and she went to the ground floor, running past the security officer.  
When she stood outside, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.  
This was a death sentence.  
She had actually hit her sire, possibly broken his nose.  
As the rush of her action and flight had ebbed down, she couldn’t stand on two legs anymore, so she shakily sat down on the pavement, contemplating what to do next, but her head was full and empty at the same time.  
Now he would diablerize her without thinking twice. Perhaps there would even be a trial.  
A plan B would be necessary, if she didn’t want to die tonight.  
If she managed to get out of the city, out of his grasp, she could probably live a somewhat normal life, outside of the Camarilla madness. Maybe she could even join a new domain, under a false name… pretend to be someone else – a Toreador perhaps – after all, everyone had always wondered why she had been embraced into clan Ventrue. Now she knew, why he had chosen her – not because of her skills and talents, simply because it had been easier for him – and he was right; there were no friends, no family members, no other people that could care about her in any way. Gemma perhaps, but he had erased her memory of her.  
It was all true – Manon didn’t have anyone. She was completely alone, as he had pointed out before. So why continue this existence? There was no one waiting for her, no one wondering why she hadn’t called for such a long time, no one missing her or even thinking of her.  
Why run? If she had to die, she could at least do so with dignity. Maybe the sheriff would behead her with his sword, it would at least be over quickly. She just hoped so.

Someone sat down next to her, startling the woman. When she glanced to the side, she saw LaCroix, sitting beside her on the street, crusted blood on the skin and his white shirt, a bloody tissue in his hand, his nose slightly crooked but his face serious and impossible to read.  
He seemed so ill placed in this surrounding and she had never thought it possible that we would sit on the dirty ground.  
“Well?” He suddenly started out, making her flinch a little. He sat so close to her, that his shoulder touched hers by accident, when he moved. “Have we calmed down yet?”  
This question was so stupid, she couldn’t answer him right away.  
“Do we have to go through the farce of a full trial, or would find the kindness in your heart to do it quick and painless?” her voice sounded hollow as she spoke. Truth was, she didn’t want to die, but then, she wasn’t even alive anymore to begin with.  
“What do you mean?” he turned his head, looking into her eyes.  
“You are going to kill me…” Manon told him, fidgeting with her bracelet. She didn’t even like jewellery, but for some reason she had decided to put it on tonight.  
He just shook his head.  
“No, I am not going to do that.” He reassured her, brushing a strand of blond hair, that had fallen into his forehead away. Even with his broken nose, he still looked as handsome as always.  
“What does it even matter, hm?” she continued, her voice shaking with each word. “You said it yourself. There is no one that I matter to, everyone is either dead, had their memory wiped or doesn’t care about me anyway. What does it matter, if you kill me now, no one will notice! I am all alone, I have nobody left…”

“I shouldn’t have…” he whispered, before stopping, sighing.   
“My words were inconsiderate.” LaCroix then spoke carefully.  
“Yet you were right.” She confirmed, resting her forehead against her knee. “I am all alone.

“You are not alone.” He disagreed, staring in the distance. “I hear you have made many friends amongst the Toreador Clan, you have Carla, who recently told me that she is happy that I have embraced you, you have me…”  
Surprised she turned her head, to face him.  
She had him? What was this supposed to mean? He wasn’t even there most of the time!  
“Yes, but… sometimes I feel that you… that you don’t care about me at all.” She whispered, sensing this conversation becoming awkward.  
“What makes you say that?” he seemed genially surprised by her statement.  
Manon scoffed. Did he really need to ask?  
“You… I just feel like your intern most of the time. You give me tasks that the others address as ‘ghoul work’. I feel like, you don’t trust me! What are Ventrue supposed to do? After all our role within the Camarilla is crucial for the safety of our kind and yet I don’t feel like I am being trained in that field.”  
She expected him to contradict to her, but he just listened to her quietly, nodding slowly and she had the feeling that for the first time since she met him he was taking her serious.  
“I wasn’t aware that you felt that way.” He then said, blinking a few times “And to be honest, I don’t know you very well-“  
“Because you make no effort to do so!” Manon explained sadly “I get it, maybe you are too busy or not as interested, but after all we work together and we share this special bond, you said it yourself.”  
They were silent for a moment.  
“I am not very good at this, am I?” he stated softly, a somewhat sad smile on his face.  
Manon didn’t know what to answer.

“Have you opened the box I had sent you?” he then asked her out of the blue.  
“In fact I have not.” Her answer was brief, making him roll his eyes.  
“Just… go home and open it, will you?” he looked at her with a rather pained expression “…Please.” He added half heartily and she felt how hard this was for him.  
Manon scoffed humourlessly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  
“You think this is done with just a gift?” she dared to look directly into his eyes. “You cannot solve everything with money and presents, Sebastian!”  
For a moment he looked truly hurt, but soon his face relaxed into his usual blasé demeanor.  
“Just…” he raised his hands and let them drop in frustration again. “…Do as I have asked you, I assure you, everything will be explained. Understood?”  
Slowly she nodded her head, witnessing the corners of his mouth quirking into a soft smile.  
“…Good. Then – see you tomorrow night.” The sentence wasn’t a question, but his tone displayed a hidden incertitude that made her feel that he wasn’t so sure of that himself.  
“Yes, possibly…” she just answered, before nodding him goodbye and getting upon shaking legs.  
He turned around to head probably back to his office, when Manon thought of something.  
“Sebastian?” she called him, making him turn his head.  
“Sorry for…” she shyly gesticulated at his face. LaCroix sighed. “It’s not my first broken nose.” He informed her, sounding rather bored again “It will heal.”  
“Ah.” She made, not sure what to say.  
“But thank you.” He shrugged, before walking back into the building.  
She was still alive, this finally occurred to her.

As soon as she came home, she grabbed the box and put it onto the sofa table, sitting down in front of it.  
To say, that she hadn’t been curious about it, would have been a lie, but she was just so hurt, that it didn’t feel right to even touch a thing that belonged to him.  
But he had asked her to open it, promising that everything would be explained.  
Quickly she ripped off the paper and pulled off the lid of the tiny box.

She gasped, as she saw what it contained.  
It was a beautiful pendant out of pure gold, hanging on a fitting necklace. The pendant was the Ankh that she recognised as the symbol of the Camarilla. In its centre there was a tiny ruby. Her fingers traced the silhouette of the jewel and as she turned it around, she saw the engravings on the back.  
“May the nights will always be to your favour. In earnest affection, your sire Sebastian.”

Earnest affection. Did he even know what that meant?  
Then she took the letter that was neatly folded at the bottom of the box.  
She saw the handwriting, which looked very elegant and rather old fashioned, and she had to admit, that she was impressed. This wasn’t a hastely scribbled note, a friend would pass you, this was beautiful. It looked like someone who had learned writing centuries ago, had been forced to adapt a modern hand writing, but nevertheless, it had the elegance and the daintiness of a time that was long lost.

_Dear Manon,  
I wanted to give this to you under different circumstances, but I figured that now would be a better time.  
It was never my intention to hurt you or break your will and I humbly beg you for forgiveness.  
I know I am not the easiest person to spend time with, not to speak of working with, but I will do my best to be more pleasant to be around with.  
I hope you are willing to forgive me and that I will be able to fix the damage I have done.  
Nothing is further from my intentions than to compromise your trust and I hereby give you my word that I will never use the discipline of Dominate on you again, as a gesture of my honest respect and affection for you.  
I know, I did not embrace a fool and I truly hope you consider accepting my apology that, as you might can tell, regarding that you now know me for quite some time, does not come easy to me.  
When you told me, that you hate me and wished we never met, it made me realize that I am probably not better than the man, who sired me, and I honestly do not want, that, if you look back at me after your Agoge, you just remember me as a sadistic tyrant who showed you nothing but disrespect. I do not want us to have that sort of relationship. I am your sire, and I am responsible for you and that is not something I should have put on the line like that, as I want our relationship to be built on a foundation of mutual respect and trust, to ensure that you one day rise to the top in this organisation.  
I hope sincerely that you accept my apology and my gift and that you are able to trust me ever again.  
Yours faithfully,  
Sebastian. _

Manon had to read the letter multiple times.  
A sincere apology? From LaCroix? She couldn’t quite believe him. He was an asshole, through and through, but what she held in her hands seemed genuine. His wish for them to have a good relationship stood in high contrast to the way he acted towards her, so this really confused her.  
Could she give him another chance? But then, did she have another choice? Apologizing obviously was hard for him, but here he did, not just muttered after an argument, but written down by hand! Again she looked at the Ankh, and stroke her fingers over it. It was truly beautiful.  
 _In earnest affection_  
Did he really feel that way about her? Or was this just an empty phrase?  
For now, she couldn’t really make up her mind, as she felt the exhaustion of the current night heavily upon her shoulders. Manon decided to think about it tomorrow.


	21. No Time For Heartache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took FOREVER! So sorry!

It was around 6pm, when Manon woke up, because her phone was ringing.  
Who would call her at this hour? All the people she knew were still slumbering.  
With a groan she opened her eyes and looked at the display, seeing an unknown number. God, what did anyone want from her at this hour at the day?  
Her fingers took it and pressed on the green button to accept the call.  
“Yes?” she groaned, her voice sounding terrible.

The voice answering made her wide awake.  
“Miss Lovett, I assume?” The caller whispered sharply, his words coated in a strange and very sophisticated dialect, she had only heard in black and white movies. Every syllable was like a drop of honey, but the voice itself sounded scratchy and devious.  
“Y-yes?” she shrieked. Where did – whoever this was – get her number from?  
“We didn’t have a chance to meet personally yet, as it seems your sire won’t leave you out of his eyesight.”  
His voice sent shivers down her spine.  
“Who are you?” she whispered, pressing her phone tightly against her ear.  
He chuckled and it made the hairs in her nape stand up.  
“Where are my manners. The name is Gary Golden, I am the primogen of this city’s Nosferatu.”  
“Oh!” she made, automatically straightening her position. She had at least seen him before, but why was he calling her?  
“How can I help you, Mr. Golden?” she formally asked.  
Again this sly laughter. “Oh please, my darling, call me Gary. ‘Mr. Golden’ makes me feel much older than I am. But I digress. A few hours ago a hunter entered our lair in the sewers. We killed him and are going to transport the corpse to the Morgue on the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. I would humbly ask you to inform his highness of the incident, as for us it was a complete mystery how this human has found us. This might be an opportunity for the Camarilla to investigate.”  
The way he almost spat out these words, signalled her that he perhaps also was not very fond of LaCroix.  
“A hunter?” she gasped frightened.  
“Indeed.” He continued and sounded almost sympathetic. “The poor fellow was well equipped, but horribly dumb. Thought he could hurt us with a puny steak and a polished cross. One of my boys snapped his neck, unfortunate guy.”  
“Oh.” Was all she could answer.  
The other one was silent.  
“The corpse will be waiting for further examination, fresh and cool on a steel table for you to do what you will with it.”  
“Thanks for that information.” She stuttered, after she found her words again. “Did any of… did any of you get hurt during the attack?”  
This seemed to surprise the Nosferatu.  
“A Ventrue, caring for things other than prestige and money? My, my, it seems I have stumbled upon a unicorn.” He snickered “But no, none of us got hurt, thanks for your concern.”  
Was he ridiculing her now?

“Why did you call me?” she finally asked.  
“Because I couldn’t reach LaCroix and hoped that maybe his fledgling had a much lighter sleep. And also I was curious about you. After all, your entrance at this week’s soiree in this beautiful dress and your dance with the prince had set many tongues wagging, even in Hollywood.”  
With that he hung up, leaving a confused and scared Manon behind. What the hell had this just been?

Shit!  
Quickly she tried to call LaCroix, but of course he didn’t pick up. He was probably still asleep.  
Did the Sheriff even have a phone? She doubted it.  
What was she supposed to do? It was probably not fully dark already.  
Carefully she walked towards a window and pushed one of the shutters a little down with her index finger. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain on her finger tip, making her hiss and pull her hand back. When she looked at her finger, she saw a huge blister on her skin, where the sun had hit it.  
“Shit…” she muttered, hurrying to the bathroom to rinse cold water over it.  
So, going out was no option now.  
Instead she used the time to get ready, trying to call her sire multiple times, each of her calls not answered. Meanwhile she had downloaded an app, which documented the sunrise and sunset, just to be sure. The blister hadn’t really healed yet, which was strange to her, because all of the little blemishes, if she got any, would disappear very quickly. She knew, that Kindred were very prone to fire and sunlight, but now, having experiences the destructive power of the sun by herself, she panicked a bit.  
Manon put a bandage around her finger, so that she at least didn’t have to look at the ugly blister anymore, grabbing her handbag and leaving the house. It was usually a fifteen minute walk to the Venture Tower, but tonight she managed it in seven. She hurried past the Welcome desk, where Chunk was napping, leaning against the table top, and jumped into an elevator, frantically pressing the button for the penthouse.

It was Saturday, so maybe he had gone home after last night? She just hoped not, as she quickly ran through the deserted office.  
Taking two steps at once, she ascended the stairs and entered the office without knocking.  
He wasn’t there, the blinds of the huge windows were closed. Of course, he wasn’t awake right now, or perhaps he wasn’t even here?  
With quick steps, she crossed the room, straightening her clothes, so she would look somewhat presentable.

In panic, she knocked at the door that lead to LaCroix’s private quarters, hoping that he had stayed up late the yesternight. It took a moment until she heard a rumble coming from the other side of the door, making her sigh in relief.  
“Yes?” as he opened up the door, she saw him standing there in silken pyjama pants, a dark red velvet robe and no shirt, his hair was a little mussed up.  
When he saw her, his eyes went big, it was clear, that he wasn’t expecting her.  
She couldn’t help, but stare at his milk white chest, that was smooth and hairless. He didn’t have visible muscles, but it looked like the chest of someone who was generally in a good shape, which wouldn’t be unusual for a former soldier, like him. To be honest, it looked kind of average. She noticed a few dark, small moles, which stood in high contrast to his pale skin.  
“Manon!” he frowned in surprise, closing the robe hastily, by tying the belt and wrapping it tighter around himself, so he wasn’t presenting his naked chest to her and she hoped he hadn’t noticed how she had been staring.  
“What are you doing here?” he asked, while she had to pull herself together.  
“I- ah…” she started out, earning an annoyed glare from LaCroix. “The Nosferatu Primogen just called me on my phone. A hunter had attacked their lair. They killed him and-“  
“A hunter?” His expression fell and was replaced by a worried frown.  
“Yes!” she continued “Well equipped but not prepared.”

“Merde…” he simply muttered, opening the door up and turning around. She had never heard him swear before.  
“I need to inform the sheriff immediately!” he spoke, walking into his quarters. Manon awkwardly stayed put.  
“Come along?” he turned around briefly and she hesitated a moment before she followed him.  
Him asking her to enter his private quarters was rather intimate. 

Curiously she looked around in this part of his office she had never been before. Right now she stood in a spacious living room, looking at if it was specifically designed to receive guests.  
It was very stylish and matched the tone of his office, as the furniture was antique and large Persian carpets were lying on the floor. A few gold framed pictures were hanging on the walls and she could see two additional doors, leading to different rooms.  
He picked up his phone that was lying on the marble sofa table, pressing his thumb on the screen.  
She watched him holding it against his ear.  
“Hunters are in town.” He simply said, as the other apparently picked up “Alert the clans, tell the Gerousia. The Nosferatu clan has been attacked. Immediately head for the sewers.”  
They were silent for a moment after he had ended the call and then he sat down onto the sofa, rubbing his hands over his face, obviously annoyed by the situation.

“What do these hunters want?” Manon asked cautiously, making him look up. She expected a snarky remark, but instead he just sighed and straightened his position.  
“Apart from getting rid of everything supernatural in this world?” he began, tilting his head a little.  
“Before the Camarilla was founded, during the Inquisition, we were forced into hiding. That’s why we invented the Masquerade, so that the mortals will never hunt us again. But then again, there are religious fanatics, that thing killing one of us fiends will get them a cosy spot in heaven. They are still out there and they are very, very dangerous. It happens that they enter a domain and go on a hunt and in that case we need to act immediately.”  
She nodded, understanding. LaCroix got up.  
“Wait for me, while I get ready?” he asked, but before she could answer, he already disappeared through one of the doors. As her eyes followed him, she could catch a glimpse of the room, clearly able to make out the edge of a huge bed with blue velvet bedding and golden poles. 

The woman dropped onto the sofa, taking a moment to calm down. This was probably worse than she had thought. She had just briefly read something about humans, who hunted vampires, but it was in the context of some ancient convention in the 14th century. Obviously, they were still active today, even after centuries of the Masquerade being upheld? This was ridiculous! 

“But with the Masquerade, how did they manage to find the Nosferatu?” Manon asked curiously, as LaCroix returned, in pants, shoes and a white shirt, that he currently buttoned up, an open tie hanging over his shoulder and a suit jacket in his arm, which he was dropping onto the coffee table.

“That’s something that can occur from time to time.” He explained, closing the last button of his shirt. She tried not to stare, but here he was dressing in front of her.  
“Sometimes a vampire is foolish enough to tell a mortal of his or her condition.” He drawled, putting the dark grey tie around his neck “And humans talk.” He seemed still a little emotional and she almost had to smirk, as she noticed that he was struggling with the knot.  
Manon got up and stepped closer, carefully touching the tie. He gave her a confused look.  
“Let me.” She offered, her fingers tying the delicate fabric into an elegant Windsor.  
Briefly her knuckle touched the soft skin of his neck and she pulled the tie into place to make it look proper, before pulling his collar down.  
“Not bad.” He told her, after looking into the mirror, that was hanging in an opulent gold frame on the wall. “Where have you learned this?”  
Was he really interested?  
“I went to a pretty posh boarding school.” Manon explained, awkwardly looking at her feet “Ties were part of our uniforms.”  
“I see.” He smiled softly, putting on his suit jacket and closing the buttons. “Thank you.”  
“Anytime.” She answered before thinking.  
They were both quiet for a moment, none of them knowing what to say. There was something in the air, something she had felt before in his presence, when they had been at the gathering and he had given her a backrub.

“So, now that we are in private-“ he started out, his voice a little sore for no apparent reason “Did you open the package?”  
“Yes!” Manon quickly nodded “I wanted to wear it today, but… in the face of current events I forgot.”  
“There will be other occasions for you to wear it, I assure you.” His lips quirked upwards.  
She looked into his eyes, that still had that alluring thing about them, she had noticed when they had first met, all those months ago. It was this moment, when she noticed, how close she still was standing to him.  
“There was something else I needed to tell you.” LaCroix started out and she saw how it was apparently not easy for him. “I spoke to the Nosferatu who works in our Server room.”  
“Max?” she complied.  
“Yes, Mr. Parr.” He shrugged “And… I need to thank you for what you did the other night. Such a security breach could have been devastating for the company. You reacted absolutely right… I didn’t.”  
Manon noticed how her fingers were shaking.  
“No problem…” she answered, her voice trembling “After all, that’s why you hired me, right?”  
She laughed dryly, but her laughter quickly died in her throat after meeting his gaze.  
“Promise me…” Sebastian continued “Never let anybody press you into a box. Like I have tried.”  
“I promise.” She swallowed hard, he stood closer in front of her than normally. Quickly he turned around and approached an antique looking chest of drawers, on which’s top there was a tiny, golden jewellery box. He opened it and took out an elegant pair of cufflinks, putting it into the holes of the cuffs on his shirt. She had to smile, cufflinks were so old fashioned, but they looked really good on him. Then he took a golden ring, she had seen him wearing a couple of times before and put it onto his ring finger.

“Is this a wedding ring?” she suddenly asked, making him give her a confused look.  
Shit, why did she even ask that?  
“No.” he simply said. “I am not married. I never was. Why?”  
Was there even a way to make this conversation more awkward than it already was? Apparently yes.  
“No reason, really.” She tried to play it safe. “I just saw you wearing it before…”  
“No, it is a family heirloom.” He then explained “it belonged to my grandfather, who was a member of the court of Louis XIV.”  
“Really?” she asked in fascination. When looking into his young and fresh face, it was so easy to forget that he was that old.  
LaCroix nodded. “But he was killed during the revolution. They put his head on a spike, as my father has told me.”  
“You used to be a noble, right?” Manon inquired. “How did your family survive the revolution?”  
He shrugged. “We weren’t nobility. Not really. When it happened, my parents were at their residence in Calais, where I grew up later. They were merely stripped of their title, as they themselves weren’t that important. My father was an illegitimate son of a duke and his mistress. The duke basically bought him this very minor title, as he was in good graces of the king.”  
Why was he telling her all of this? Normally he wouldn’t tell her private details like this.  
He threw a last searching glance in the mirror, before he turned back to her.  
“You used to be a soldier, right?” Manon continued. “In Napoleon’s army?”  
“That is common knowledge.” He spoke, his tone bored. Of course.  
“What did you do there?” she asked.  
“Killing people.” Was his brief answer. Gosh, this was awkward. She looked away, again feeling disrespected.  
Suddenly he sighed.  
“I was an officer in the cavalry.” Sebastian told her, and she couldn’t help but to imagine him in a fancy blue uniform sitting on a dashing steed. “Does this answer your question?”  
Quickly she nodded.  
He still behaved like an asshole, but she thought that he made at least an effort to not be unbearable.  
The Prince looked marvellous as always, wearing the wrinkleless suit, his hair swept back, while she was a mess. In her hurry, she hadn’t brushed her long hair properly and instead put it up in a messy bun with a few stubborn strands peeking out of it. She was wearing a simple black long sleeved jumper with a pair of black skinny jeans, a remnant from her human life, with black kitten heel pumps, she had just slipped into, because they were the first thing, she had seen before leaving the apartment. There hadn’t been time for makeup, so the only thing adorning her face, were the remnains of last night’s lipstick, that wouldn’t come off, no matter how hard she tried. Compared to him, as usual, she felt so small and shabby.

“So, our first stop will be the Morgue.” He suddenly spoke “Let’s go, we have a lot of work to do.”  
“Wait!” she didn’t understand “We?”  
“Yes.” He lifted his eyebrows “Last night you complained that I didn’t teach you enough, so you will be accompanying me tonight, while I take care of this mess with the hunter. Or do you object?”  
“No!” she quickly gasped “Not at all! Let’s go!”

Traffic was slow, there probably had been a play nearby and so the limousine they were sitting in stopped for the second time at the same traffic light. It had started to rain again and Manon watched the rain drops falling against the window. The prince on the other hand was on his phone, barking oders at the people on the other line, before ending the call without saying goodbye.  
_Search the sewers! Join the sheriff! Keep the Anarch from disturbing the investigations! Tell Isaac he has to cooperate!_ , were just a few of his instructions.  
This matter had seemed to upset him.  
She turned her head after hearing him sigh. Sebastian now also stared out of the window.  
“Any luck yet?” she dared to ask, startling the Prince, who looked at her as if he had forgotten that she was in the car.  
“No.” he clicked his tongue. “But I asked the Sheriff to send one of his hounds to the morgue to meet us there, so he could inform us about the investigation so far.”  
“Hound?” she wanted to know.  
“Assistants of the sheriff.” He explained.  
She wondered if the Sheriff’s assistants were as silent as the man himself.  
It was only natural, that, even if he was a brute, he wasn’t able to be the enforcer of a huge city like L.A. just by himself. Searching the sewers alone would at least take 20 people, if they wanted to manage it tonight.  
She just hoped that they found out where the hunter had been coming from. Thinking of someone popping up at her apartment during the day, especially since she knew the pain sunlight could inflict on her undead skin, was horrifying.  
“Are there humans who know about us?” she asked “I mean, except for ghouls…”  
The Prince nodded. “Blood dolls, humans who seek a thrill out of the kiss. Most of them join a Kindred’s herd eventually, but some of them maybe foolish enough to boast around with it. Good thing is, that normally no one really believes them, but for a hunter who knows for what they are looking, such a blood doll can be a valuable leak.”  
“A leak?” she repeated, scoffing dryly. At the moment, Los Angeles seemed to her like a huge colander.  
“What usually happens to those, who run around, telling everyone and their mothers about our existence?” she then dared to ask, even though she already knew the answer.  
“They get extinguished discreetly.” Sebastian supplied. “A single person with the potential to endanger our whole society is just too dangerous to wander around.”

It took them a while, but after all they arrived at Hollywood Forever Cemetery. When Manon had come to L.A. in the first place, she of course had visited this very famous graveyard, but now that it was night and it wasn’t invested by tourists taking photographs of celebrity tombstones, she had to admit, that it was quite eerie here. The rain had stopped as they got out of the car.  
Trying not to step into any mud puddles, they made their way towards an ivy overgrown house, with lights in the windows.  
As they approached the building, they saw a figure standing in front of the entrance.

When they got close enough, she noticed that it was a woman, probably already waiting for them, seemingly in her middle thirties.  
Whatever Manon had expected a pathologist to look like, it was nothing like this person.  
She wore a white plastic coat with a white apron, her blond hair was elegantly curled and on her nose there was a pair of vintage glasses, matching perfectly to the colour of her coral red lipstick.  
She looked like she was straight out of a 1950s milkshake bar.  
“Good night, Prince!” she said with a straight face “Doris Berger MD, I’m doing the autopsy on this case, Mr. Golden told me that you’ll probably make it tonight.”  
“Yes, yes, and we thank you for your expertise on this case.” Sebastian answered, both of them probably not interested in exchanging chit chat before their task.  
The vampires followed the woman into the building. 

“He’s pretty damaged, you know, but in my opinion, what else did he expect when venturing alone into Nosferatu territory, than receiving a deadly knuckle sandwich.” Dr. Berger continued “Didn’t help that they drained him of his blood as well.”  
Manon swallowed, after all, this was the first time she would be confronted with the remains of true vampire rage.  
LaCroix seemed to notice, that she was a little fidgeting, because he turned his head to her and gifted her with a small smile.  
“Have you ever been to a morgue before?” he asked rather casually, as the doctor disappeared through a door with a transparent PVC curtain in front of it.  
“I can’t say that I have.” She then shrugged, as a weird smell got into her nose.  
“So then this is your first tonight.” He sighed, pushing the curtain aside for her to enter, revealing a steel table with a white cloth over it. Underneath the cloth there was a vaguely human shaped object. The stench was unbearable at that point, just reeking of death and suffering.  
“The Nosferatu didn’t leave a lot for us to inspect, to be honest.” Dr. Berger shrugged, before she pulled the sheet away, revealing something that used to be a human once, with a lot of imagination. Manon suppressed a shocked scream, as she saw what the Sewer Rats had done to this hunter. Bones weirdly stood out of the cadaver and his face was mutilated beyond recognition. Something she could just identify as a leg, had a weird angle to it and the foot was missing completely. The only clue were his hands, that were almost intact, as she just noticed, because they were severed off his body, lying next to something that looked like a pair of lungs. She had never seen something horrifying as that. It wasn’t a body, but a mess of blood, organs, bones, skin and flesh.  
Suddenly everything turned black.

“Wakey Wakey.”  
She woke up, lying on a grubby, green sofa, probably in some sitting room. A tall, dark haired man was sitting on the edge of a wonky looking chair, next to her, putting a magazine about fishing down, as he noticed that she was awake again.  
“Don’t worry, sugar, happens to many people.” He spoke, lifting an eyebrow at her. He was very handsome, but in an adventurous way. “Name’s Romero. I am the Care Taker here.”  
He reached out his hand at her.  
“Manon… Miss Lovett.” She babbled, as she shook his hand, feeling the warm blood underneath his skin, that made her dizzy. He was alive. A ghoul, maybe?  
“What happened?” she wanted to know, sitting up carefully.  
“You fainted.” He explained calmly, his lips slightly curling up.  
“Never seen a vamp faint, to be honest.”  
She groaned in frustration.  
“Did you see the… thing inside there?” she had to sigh, leaning back into the cushions.  
“Yeah.” He told her, visibly cringing before cocking an eyebrow at her “I just had made the mistake of eating half a pepperoni pizza before.”  
“Happens to the best of us.” She shrugged “I wonder how you even dare to eat anything, when you work at the morgue.”  
Romero laughed.  
“That’s not exactly what I do.” He purred mysteriously “Isaac hired me to… keep in what else gets out, if you know what I mean.”  
She shook her head.  
“Like every graveyard, we sometimes tend to have a little… undead problem, no offense.”  
“None taken!” she blinked a few times. “So what are you implying?”  
“I am talking about Zombies.” He bluntly said, his eyes having an alluring glow to them “The walking dead.”  
“Zombies?” she gasped, weirdly fascinated. “And… how do you take care of them?”  
Romero clicked his tongue, not breaking eye contact “Well, a shotgun bullet usually does the job. That’s why I’m here!”  
“No weird rituals or reading from forbidden books?” she joked.  
“Nah, that only works in movies.” The man snorted, shifting his position “Just a good old bullet. I can do that. Leave me alone with all that magic shit – I would like to leave that job to the Tremere!”  
Manon joined his laughter.  
“Well, I have to say I’m impressed!” she told him in all honesty, propping herself up again. “Standing alone against hordes of the undead – it takes a lot of balls.”  
The ghoul scoffed amusedly, a big and proud grin spreading across his lips  
“A pretty girl, who is impressed by me shooting up zombies? Where have you been, when you were alive?” he chuckled, lighting a cigarette, which, for reasons she couldn’t tell, made her flinch.  
“Right…” he quickly put it out “I forgot – fire makes your kind a little nervous. I’m sorry.”  
“No harm done.” She smiled. Romero laughed, sitting up straight and making his back crack.  
“I wonder… do you have any plans after this, or-“  
Before he could phrase the question, the door went open and LaCroix entered the little room.  
“You woke up, I see.” He greeted her in a very formal way, before he turned his head to Romero, his face having his usual blasé demeanour. “Thank you, Mr. Romero, but your assistance is no longer needed.”  
The ghould shrugged and got up, to leave, not before winking at Manon with a sweet grin on his lips. She couldn’t help but to return it.  
After Romero had left, LaCroix sat down, where the ghoul had been sitting before, tilting his head slightly and scrutinizing her with narrowed eyes.  
“Are you feeling better?” he asked in all seriousness.  
“Yes, yes… I just… I wasn’t prepared for how gruesome it was… they really butchered that poor guy.” She answered in all honesty, making him smile.  
“I am sorry for bringing you here.” The prince then spoke “I tend to forget how _innocent_ you are.”  
Innocent? Did he think of her as a blushing virgin?  
But deep down she knew what he meant. She just wasn’t used to all of this gore and violence. The sight of this corpse didn’t even make him flinch, but he had been around for a lot longer than she had, after all.

“What’s that on your hand?” he suddenly asked.  
“Oh… just… I hurt myself.” She squirmed, hiding her hand behind her back.  
“Show me, please.” LaCroix demanded and reluctantly she took off the bandage, revealing the blister. It did look a little better than at the beginning of tonight, but it still hadn’t healed and hurt.  
Manon felt his fingers, wrapping around her wrist and pull her hand closer to have a better look at her injury.  
He clicked his tongue. “Sunlight, I suppose?” She nodded.  
“Don’t be so careless.” He sighed, letting go of her. “We don’t want you to turn into ash, don’t we?”  
He looked at her face for a moment, as if he was searching for the answers he was looking for underneath her brows, before he leaned back.  
“Do you feel fit to continue?” he wanted to know, tilting his head.  
“I would like some fresh air first…” she asked, to which he nodded.  
“I will accompany you, in case you drop down again.”

The night air was cool and still had the delicious scent of rain attached to it, as they strolled over the cemetery. She had to admit, that it was quite romantic, a walk at night on a historic graveyard, with a handsome man by her side, but she quickly reminded herself that strictly business had brought them here and that they soon had to return to the autopsy.  
“To be honest, I expected this investigation to be different.” Manon spoke, glancing over at the prince.  
“How?”  
“First off, I didn’t plan on fainting.” She chuckled dryly, making a weak grin appear on his lips.  
“This whole… thing wasn’t planned, to be honest.” Sebastian replied “There are a couple of nicer things to do on a Saturday evening.”  
“Like the council of the Primogen?” she teased, sounding smug.  
He really seemed to think about if for a moment.  
“No.” he then decided to say “I have to admit, that I rather be on this dirty cemetery, than having one of those meetings.”

As she heard a giggle, she had to turn around, only to see a couple of dark dressed teenagers, sitting on tombstones, three boys and two girls, one of them with bright green hair, having hot dogs and a bottle in a brown paper bag with them.  
“At least they are having a good night…” she smiled weakly, remembering her own teenage years.

To be true, she never hung out at a cemetery, but she and her friends from school were loitering in Sherborn on Saturday afternoons as well, mostly at this little tea shop, which sold amazing scones for reasonable prices. It happened more than once, that she had returned to school with a terrible stomach ache after eating a few too many scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam.  
She looked over to the young people, who were probably tipsy and devouring their hot dogs.  
Manon smiled.  
“That’s the thing I probably miss the most…” she mused “food.”  
The Prince clicked his tongue in amusement.  
“Care to tell me what you liked to eat, when you were alive?” he asked, and as she looked at him a little confused, he added quickly: “I am rather out of touch with the culinary customs of today.”

“Well,...there was this deli downtown and they made the most amazing camembert sandwich, with rucola, walnuts, sweet mustard, figs, fresh lettuce and tomatoes and they served it with sweet potato chips.” She sighed, remembering the delicious meal “And then I often went to a burger restaurant, which made an amazing vegetarian burger with a juicy Portobello mushroom…What about you? Is there any food you miss?”  
His lips slightly curled up.  
“It’s not really food, but… I really miss cake” He then told her, and she had to admit, she hadn’t expected that answer.  
She had to chuckle, looking at the skyline of Hollywood.  
“Any favourite kind of cake?” Manon inquired further. Gosh, this whole conversation was so irrelevant – both of them didn’t eat anymore, so why were they now sharing their nostalgia for food, when there were more urgent matters to attend to?  
“Fraisier.” Was his simple answer. Manon lifted both of her brows, thinking of the delicious strawberry cakes her grandmother used to make, but he continued “Anything… if it contained strawberries, I would have probably stuffed my face with it.”  
Strawberries? Strawberry Cakes? So he used to be a sweet tooth, when he had been alive? To be honest, it was almost endearing.

She saw how one of the boys pressed a kiss onto the cheek of the girl with the green hair, which made Manon remember something.  
“Wait, I know, who could be the leak!” she suddenly realised, thinking back about a previous encounter.  
Sebastian curiously tilted his head.  
“Jane… _your_ Jane” Manon simply spoke. His mask fell and he looked at her like she was a ghost.  
“Impossible!” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “But… how do you know Jane?”  
“I met her, when I was picking up a letter and she seemed to know about my condition right away. Also she seemed very tensed, when I mentioned the LaCroix Foundation.”  
The Prince swallowed hard.  
“What do you know about her?” he asked rather bluntly.  
“Nothing…” Manon tried to sound as innocent as possible. “Only that there is bad blood between you two.”  
The Prince sighed, scratching the back of his neck.  
“I had her sign a contract, that if she ever tells someone of anything she had learned at the Foundation, we would end all our contracts and financial support for their firm… I wouldn’t have thought that she will ever take the risk.”  
“Well, maybe not voluntarily!” she threw in. “I don’t think any serious business woman would risk to lose one of her biggest client because over some personal argument.”  
“You think so?” he scuffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. This topic seemed to really stress him out.  
They were silent for a moment, both of them watching the teenagers, who were now laughing, about something that one of the girls showed them on her phone.

“It was a moment of weakness…” he suddenly explained, without her having asked. “Fraternizing with kine isn’t something I usually do. I just needed to clarify that.”  
Manon shook her head “Whatever there is between you and her… it’s none of my business.”  
She was sure that he would have blushed, if he had been still alive and a moment too late she thought about how personal this statement must have been. But then, why was he so eager to justify himself? If she knew anything about him, it was that he barely justified himself for any of his actions.  
“Well,… good. I will see into the matter.” LaCroix than formally spoke, seemingly flustered up. “But let’s get back to Dr. Berger, shall we?”


	22. Hallowed Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, as usually my apologies for not updating sooner. The next chapter will come quicker, as it is done already... I have a weird way of writing. Also, I am pretty excited about VTMB2.

Their way back to the morgue was filled with awkward silence. Internally she cursed herself for having brought Jane up. This was obviously a sensitive topic for him, especially since he needed to justify his actions to her. Was he ashamed of his fling with a mortal? Wasn’t this something vampires would do? “Fraternizing with kine” he had said, as if humans were something despicable, something no one would ever want to be around. He had been human once, but more than 200 years ago. She started to ask herself, that she would become like him one day, when she had spent the majority of her life as Kindred. Would she forget about her former mortality?  
As they got closer to the morgue, she had to flinch her eyes, because they had adapted to the darkness already and the bright lights from the windows were blinding her.

“Wait…” he suddenly whispered, putting his arm in front of her, stopping her from walking any further. There was a dark figure, leaning against the wall of the Morgue, she could clearly make out the silhouette.  
Carefully her sire made a few steps forward, but then his posture relaxed again, as he obviously recognized the person waiting there.

“Oh.” He made “It’s just you.”  
Manon also caught up with him until they reached the stranger.  
“Good Evening, Prince.” The person nodded respectfully, and as Manon came closer, she saw that it was a woman, probably not older than herself, wearing a fashionable leather jacket with a pair of distressed jeans. Her brown hair was short and barely reached her chin and through her right nostril, there was a ring. Her eyes went first to Sebastian and then lingered on Manon. To her shock, she noticed, that her pupils were rectangular, like the pupils of a goat.  
“Miss!” she then said to Manon, pushing herself away from the wall.  
Who was she?  
“Any news yet?” the prince then asked, his voice sharp as usual when he spoke the people. Strange, somehow she now noticed, that the whole night his voice had sounded different than this.  
The woman nodded. “We could locate the place where he had entered the sewers.”  
Now Manon understood, she probably was one of the sheriff’s hounds.  
“We even found out that he had been around for quite some time.” She started out “He had entered through a manhole in West Hollywood and from there he apparently made his way through the severs, until he found the Nosferatu. Probably he hadn’t been alone.”  
The Prince nodded.  
“What about the Nosferatu?” he wanted to know “Have they said anything about how he attacked them?”  
“The Nosferatu had taken his bag away.” She explained “Inside there had been a map of the sewers, a gun with bullets, several stakes, a chain of garlic, a bottle of holy water, a crucifix…”  
Manon noticed how he wrinkled his nose at that word.”… and a leather bound bible, bearing the emblem of St. Leopold.”  
“St. Leopold?” LaCroix asked, making the woman nod in confirmation.  
Manon didn’t know why, but for some reason the mere mention of this name had made him uneasy. It had been very subtle, but she had seen his eyes widen for a brief moment. A regular person wouldn’t have caught onto this little hint, but in the last months she had developed a certain sensitivity to minimal body language.  
“Thank you, Miss Dorset.” He then told her “I am sure, you will have urgent matters in the investigation to attend to. Hunters from St. Leopold never come alone. I want you to turn over every single rock, until you have found the remaining ones, that pester my domain.”  
With that, she respectfully lowered her head, before she pushed herself away from the wall and disappeared into the night, without another word.

The two Ventrue stood in front of the building for a little while longer, seemingly stomaching the news. What was St. Leopold? The name rang a bell. Probably it had been one of the orders who hunted vampires during the Inquisition. But did they still exist today?  
LaCroix gave her a brief look, before he pushed the door open, for her to walk in first.  
“Who was she?” Manon wanted to know, as they entered the Morgue again.  
“The scourge.” He simply told her.  
Scourge? She head read about it – the scourge had ultimately one task – the destruction of illegally embraced vampires. But apparently she was also involved in the investigation.  
Looking at this small woman, she didn’t look like she was particularly strong, but if she had learned anything about Kindred, it was that looks could deceive.  
Who would even expect such a delicate woman to be a brutal killer?  
As they approached the autopsy, the smell of corpse grew stronger, but at least Manon now was prepared about what was to come.  
Still, the butchered corpse was no pleasing sight, but she didn’t faint the second time she saw it, as she slipped through the plastic curtain, followed by her sire.  
Dr. Berger gave her a worried look.  
“Are you feeling better now?” she asked carefully, her tone reminding her of her mother’s.  
“Yes, thanks, I…” Manon nodded awkwardly, still a little ashamed of her fainting.  
“First corpse, I understand, dear.” The doctor smirked, lifting an eyebrow, before she looked at the prince again.

“I suggest you wear gloves.” The Doctor asked them, pointing at a box that contained rubber gloves. Manon had always hated those to be frank, as they reminded her of hospitals.

After putting on the powdered latex onto their hands with flicking sounds, they gathered around the steel table.  
“Look here.” The woman started out, cupping something that could have been the corpse’s head once. “Male, probably not older than thirty… teeth in rather good condition, a perfect specimen.”  
How anything about this person could be perfect, was beyond Manon’s understanding.

“Any papers? Driving Licence? Passport?” LaCroix asked casually, pointing at a piece of fabric, that had almost melted into the flesh, tinted red by blood, that vaguely resembled a faux leather jacket.  
The ghoul shook her head. “Unfortunately, no.”  
The Prince exhaled audibly, obviously disappointed.  
“However, we found his phone during the autopsy.” Dr. Berger continued, looking rather uncomfortable.  
“During the autopsy?” Manon dared to ask.  
“Yeah.” The woman answered “It was pretty nasty. Apparently the Nosferatu shoved it down his throat.”  
“Oh.” The Ventrue managed to suppress a gag, unconsciously putting her own hand onto her throat. Hunter or not, this poor sod must have suffered immensely before his death.   
LaCroix picked up the phone, trying to turn it on. It was locked.  
“We will take it with us and have the people in our IT department decrypt it.” The prince suggested but Manon just groaned in frustration.  
“Oh, just give me the phone.” She rolled her eyes and LaCroix handed the device to her. Even through the material of the latex gloves, she could feel the stickiness of the dried blood.   
Her eyes were searching the metal table, until she found what she was looking for.  
“Oh God…” she muttered under her breath, still incredibly grossed out by the body. “May I?”  
“Of course!” Dr. Berger answered and it took Manon a moment to gather all her strength for the task she was planning to do.

Carefully grabbed the dead hunter’s dismembered right hand to press his thumb against the screen and the phone unlocked. Manon had to gag as her skin came in contact with the corpse, only to realise that it didn’t really feel different than the skin of a vampire.  
It worked, the thumb unlocked the screen and as soon as she was finished the dropped the hand rather disgusted back onto the table.  
“See?” she witnessed how the two others looked at each other a bit confused, but she started to scroll through his call history.  
“In the last hours before his death, he has called several phone numbers…” Manon spoke, while she swiped her finger over the screen. The cool temperature in the morgue made this quite hard, as her body had already adapted to the cold, also the gloves didn’t help.  
“He called the Taxi Service… a guy named Jeff… someone called Tina… some Brother Bach…”  
The Prince quickly approached her, looking over her shoulder.   
Manon handed him the phone. For a moment he just blankly stared at the display, it was clear to her, that something was off, even though he managed to keep on a poker face, but by now she knew him well enough to look past this façade.

“Indeed.” he just mumbled, putting the phone onto the tray, before he took his own out of his pocket, dialling a number.  
“What is it?” Manon demanded to know, his weird behaviour startling her.  
Sebastian didn’t answer, but he held the phone against his ear and waited for someone to pick up.  
“It’s urgent.” He simply said. “Summon the Gerousia.”

Manon had to hurry to keep up, as LaCroix quickly made his way through the hall to leave the Morgue.  
“What’s going on?” she demanded to know, as she finally caught up to him “Who is Brother Bach?”  
Her sire remained quiet, probably ignoring her. Who was this Bach and why the hell was Sebastian so nervous?   
She followed him out of the building, to his limousine, not sure if he even wanted her to.  
But as he the driver got out and opened the door for them, he made eye contact with her.

“We need to get back to the tower.” He then informed her out of the blue, as if he had just noticed, that she was with him at that point.  
Without further words, they got into the car again, the driver closing the door behind them, before getting in himself and starting the engine.

Neither of them said something for the next few minutes. What was wrong? He seemed so unsettled by the new information. But why? Who was this Brother Bach?  
“What is the matter?” Manon questioned, after he again seemed to ignore her.  
What was this supposed to mean? This was not just downright rude, but equally confusing. Normally he wasn’t one to stay silent for long and now seeing him that speechless made her worry a little. Maybe this situation was graver than she had thought at the beginning?

She watched him a moment, his profile illuminated by the street lights. Again she couldn’t help but to notice, that he was really handsome. This pretty face has probably fooled and deceived a lot of people in the past. It had just been yesterday, that she had punched into it. He hadn’t held this against her, even though she knew, that he normally was the vindictive type.   
No, tonight, he had managed to behave well, despite of the current events. She couldn’t help, but to respect that. Absently he tried to wipe the stubborn streak of hair out of his face, that had again fallen out of his swiped back hairdo.  
She had watched him do this quite a few times. God knew, how many years he already had this quirk. Funny. She wondered, if he had already done this, when he had been in Napoleon’s army.   
This made her thought about something different, he had told her tonight.

“So… Strawberries?” she started out, making him flinch. At least this had seemed to attract his attention.  
“What?”  
“Strawberries.” She repeated. “You told me, you liked them.”  
A frown appeared on his forehead and his nostrils twitched.  
“I shouldn’t have told you that…” he muttered, but she could clearly see a light smile on his face. It wasn’t one of his normal smiles, that looked like he forced himself to appear more likable, no, this one was sneaking its way onto his face and she saw, that he was trying to hold it back.  
“Why not?”  
“Because now you are being such a tease about it.” He complained, his eyes drifting out of the window.  
“I am not a tease!” Manon protested, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  
The Prince groaned briefly, before he gave in. “Very well,…what about strawberries?”  
“Nothing…” she muttered shyly “I just didn’t expect that.”  
LaCroix scoffed.  
“What else would you rather have me eat? Bitterness and Onion Soup?”  
This cracked her up. It was certainly not the right moment to have a fit of laughter, but she couldn’t help it. Sebastian next to her just smirked, shaking his head and continued to stare out of the window until she calmed down.  
“I need to address the board about this issue.” He then sighed in annoyance, his face serious again. “If the Order of St. Leopold is involved, this is worse than I thought.”  
“They still exist?” Manon remembered her earlier question.   
“Unfortunately.” He confirmed “Catholic fundamentalists who think that killing supernatural monsters, that stalk the night will secure them a cosy spot in heaven, wielding crosses an guns. Latter can be really dangerous.”

“You are not too fond of crucifixes.” She mentioned.  
“Believe me, you wouldn’t be too, if some cretins hold them into your face, trying to murder you with one for centuries.”  
The woman chuckled.  
“Crosses and rosaries…” she mused “Could those things really affect us?”  
To her surprise he nodded his head. “Those who possess true faith can.”  
“True faith?” she hadn’t heard of this before. “What is that?”  
He sighed, thinking about it for a moment.  
“It is… complicated.” Sebastian then decided to say “The simple version is – if a person truly believes, that they can hurt a vampire with a crucifix, if they honestly have the faith in it – it works.”  
Just like that? To her, this seemed really strange. Suddenly she didn’t feel as safe as before. He seemed to sense, that she was uncomfortable, because he quickly added “But don’t worry, this is very seldom. Only the true devout can wield this power. Our dead hunter most likely didn’t”  
She was silent for a moment, biting her lower lip in thought.  
“Have you ever met someone, who possessed it?” she then decided to question.  
“I have.” LaCroix shifted his position, obviously not wanting to talk about this.  
She decided not to inquire further.

Soon they arrived at the Venture tower. The limousine drove them into the underground parking garage, where they got out and took the elevator.  
To her surprise, they didn’t go all the way up to his penthouse, but stopped two floors earlier.  
As the doors opened, to her misery, there was the sheriff, already waiting for them. But he was not alone. With him was another Ventrue, Ed Barber, a handsome man, physically in his early fourties. He had been one of the first people to greet her, when she had been here shortly after her embrace, but normally their paths never crossed. She didn’t even knew what exactly his job was within the Camarilla.  
“My prince!” he spoke, making a slight bow. “Miss Lovett, you are looking marvellous, as always.” “I supposed the other members are already present?” LaCroix plainly said, to which Ed Barber eagerly nodded.  
“Yes, Prince, they are already waiting in the board room.”  
“Good.”  
Her sire passed the brute and the other one and made his way through the hallway.

Manon didn’t say a word and followed LaCroix, Ed Barber and the sheriff a few steps behind them.   
“Any word from the investigation?”he then asked.  
“Yes!” Barber skipped in “They have found no clues of the others.”  
He sighed, briefly clicking his tongue.  
“Tell the bloodhounds, I want every manhole in this city observed, if they plan to rescue their friend or attack the Nosferatu as well. Tell Wattman, I want a report about this on my desk within an hour.” She could see, that LaCroix was now in his element, barking orders and feeling important.

How late was it even? Due to the events, she had completely lost track about the time. When she pulled her phone out of her handbag, to check the clock, her lipstick, that had been in her bag as well, dropped onto the floor in the process.  
“Shute.” She muttered, hearing the lipstick roll over the floor. She turned her head, to see where it had landed, but as she looked for it, she noticed, that the sheriff was bowing down, picking up the delicate object with his huge hands. Without a word, he straightened up again, handing it to Manon.  
She held her breath for a second, before she took her lipstick again, staring up into the Sheriff’s wrinkled face, that showed no emotion.   
“Thank you.” She whispered, a shaky and polite smile across her lips. He just responded with a simple nod, nothing more, nothing less.  
Quickly she took a few quick steps, to catch up to LaCroix, who probably hadn’t been paying attention, as he was still giving orders to Barber.

The board meetings had always been mysterious to her.  
Every Thursday night, around 10 pm Sebastian had disappeared to meet with these illusive people in a meeting room two floors down.  
She had never been there, of course not, she was just a fledgling, not even officially integrated into the clan. At the end of the hallway, there was a door. It didn’t look that special, but for some reason, she knew that this was, where they were heading to.

“Thank you, Mr. Barber.” She heard her sire speak politely “I want you to get back and monitor the progress of the hounds. Inform me, when there is anything important.”  
“Yes, prince.” The other one declared, bowing and returning to the elevator, leaving LaCroix, Manon and the sheriff alone.  
LaCroix opened the door, gesturing her to follow him. What? Could this be true? Did he want her to join him at the Gerousia meeting? But before she got her hopes too high, she noticed, that they had entered a waiting room with expensive, sleek leather sofas and a glass table with different business magazines lying on them.  
At the other end of the room, there was another door, made out of some kind of dark metal in a frame out of marble. Of course, this must be the door, leading to the real board room.  
“Wait for me?” Sebastian suddenly turned to Manon, making her jump in surprise.  
“Of course.” She whispered, shakily taking a seat at one of the sofas.  
The corners of his mouth quirked up a little and for a moment she thought, that he wanted to tell her something else, but then he disappeared through the door, followed by the Sheriff.  
The portal closed with a harsh sound, leaving her alone in the anteroom with just her thoughts.

This meeting took forever. Manon tried to read one of the magazine, but she just couldn’t concentrate enough to comprehend any of the articles. What took them so long in there? Would the keep on talking until the sun went up?   
Two hours later the door went open a procession of people left the room. She quickly got up, nodding respectfully, as the older Ventrue passed her, most of them not even acknowledging her presence, except for Emma Devitt, the Ventrue Primogen, who gifted her a polite smile.  
The last one, who left was the Sheriff, who took his place next to the door, like a deadly, gruesome statue.  
Where was Sebastian?  
“Manon?” she suddenly heard her sire’s voice and when she turned her head, she saw him standing in the door. “A minute?”  
She nodded, following him into the high room. It was a huge corner office, it’s wall consisting of windows. The only light was coming from the other buildings outside, tinting their silhouettes into an interesting combination of cool blues and bright yellows.  
Curiously she looked around. The floor was out of black marble and there was a huge glass table standing in the middle of the room with expensive looking leather chairs placed around it.  
This was the board room? It looked so vampiric, even to outsiders.  
“Wow!” she made, seemingly impressed by the interior design.  
As he noticed her astonishment, he looked rather content, before he took a few steps towards the huge windows, his back facing her, as he stared over the skyline.  
As he gazed slightly over his left shoulder, their eyes met and she approached him, coming to a hold next to him.  
The view was incredible, just like the view from his office, but due to the big windows, she felt as if she would fall down into the abyss of skyscrapers any second.

“The meeting was rather successful.” He suddenly revealed “We will be stationing more guards and request the Tremere for a few of their gargoyles to assist us, while looking for the intruders.”  
Gargoyles? She dared not to ask, what the deal with those was.  
“Also… the primogen are informed and will be gathering here tomorrow night, to discuss further actions. A hunter is dangerous to all of us.”  
“Good.” She nodded in agreement, swallowing hard.  
He turned to her, his thumb tracing the outlines of his bottom lip in thought. There was a blue shadow on his face, rendering his expression unreadable.  
Did he want to tell her something? All she could do was staring back in utter confusion.  
“Listen.” LaCroix then started out “Before this …matter is resolved, I do not want you to wander around Los Angeles without protection.”  
“What?” she gasped a tad too loud. What was this supposed to mean?  
The glare he gave her, silenced her protests.  
“Feed from what is in your fridge and if you have to go hunting, take one of the bloodhounds with you.”  
Manon frowned, her eyes again wandering out of the window.  
The bloodhounds… he must be kidding! Why would this hunter look for her? She was a vampire, true, but how would the know? She was still human enough to fool anyone.  
“Manon.” His voice sounded admonitory and as she meet his eyes again, his face looked cold as stone, like he was made out of marble. “Promise me you won’t wander around.”  
She bit the inner of her cheek, not knowing how to answer.  
“Manon!” He repeated a little firmer, without blinking.  
“Alright.” She gave in, turning to the window again. He seemed content with her answer, as he didn’t say anything anymore.  
So this had been it. Her first day of really assisting the Prince in concerns of the Camarilla. To be honest, she still needed to stomach the experiences of tonight. She wrapped her hands around her torso, suddenly feeling so alone in the world. She was used to a certain feeling of loneliness, but now there was this huge dimension of immortality adding to it.  
“Who is… Brother Bach?” she then dared to ask.  
“A hunter.” Came his answer promptly. A hunter. No shit. “A very dangerous one.”   
She sensed, that he didn’t want to talk about it, so she decided to instead just enjoy the view for a while. Tonight had been exhausting.


	23. What's a Girl to do?

The beat was loud and steady, she was feeling it deep inside her core. Manon was dancing dressed in a kind of outfit, that probably was far from fit for a Ventrue. It was a low cut black dress, that she had bought for the weekend of her last birthday. It was tight at the waist and went to her knees, with a slit on the right side. Her hair was opened, loose and curled, her lips painted in a dark shade of red. The only things that weren’t over the top tonight were her shoes, which were simple, pointed flats with a strap, because she wanted to dance. Normally she wouldn’t dare to dress like that ever but now… things had changed, and she felt it was quite exciting to go out like a true seductress for once. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore – she was the most deadly predator out there, she was the monster, she was the goddamn night!  
The thought made her feel extremely powerful.  
She had already fed for the night, it had been a drunk bearded guy who had told her about his band, and it had tasted quite alright.  
The alcohol just added to her high.

It had been six weeks already, since they’ve been to the morgue! There had been no attacks and they hadn’t found any trace of the hunters anymore. Maybe it just had been an individual offender, who had disturbed the Nosferatu? A confused kid, who read too many comic books and had to pay for it with his life?  
Now she was just enjoying herself on the dance floor. True, she had promised LaCroix to only consume the blood in the fridge and stay away and don’t wander around the city without protection, with this hunter being around, but she just couldn’t stay at home any longer. She didn’t need any bloodhounds to babysit her.

Since their argument, where she had broken Sebastian’s nose, things had changed. The tasks she was given were more interesting and fell into her expertise. Also she was able to work more with Max down in the server room.  
His behaviour towards her had changed a lot. LaCroix at least made an effort to be nicer to her, as she had to admit. He still had his days, where he was grumpy and bad tempered, but she could tell that he did his best, not to take his anger out on her. He had even thanked her for accomplished tasks quite a few times. It still was a little weird, but their relationship had really improved since the incident. Maybe this was as good as it would get. Maybe it was the discipline of presence, but despite everything that had happened, Manon still found herself being insanely attracted to him, at least physically. She could look at it however she liked, fact was, that to her, he was eye candy. When he wasn’t talking, it was almost pleasant to be around him. In the last weeks she had regularly set up her work station in his office, sitting on one of his comfortable sofas, her notebook on her lap, and from time to time, she had glanced up, to find him staring highly concentrated onto the screen of his laptop. He was just pretty, there was no purpose in denying that. The way he pursed his lips slightly, when he read something was just cute. One time he had caught her staring at him, his blue eyes displaying confusion, as he had looked up for a moment, before he had lifted one eyebrow, straightening up his position.  
“Can I help you?” he had asked.  
Manon had just quickly shaken her head, hoping he hadn’t noticed how long she had observed him, claiming that she just had been deep in thought. He hadn’t questioned that. From that on, she had been more careful. But she rather liked working in his office. It was quiet, no one would enter randomly and it reminded her of the study sessions she had had with her friends back at university.  
As much as she enjoyed her job at the moment, she still had developed some kind of cabin-fever.  
All her nights, she spent in the tower and after that, she would be going home, drink some of the packed blood Mercurio delivered regularly, watch some TV (which sucked during night time), browsed the internet or just read in some of the books about vampire history. She tried starting a painting once, but as soon, as she had set up the canvas, she had noticed, that her head was empty.  
She needed to get out from time to time. Carla had invited her to quite a few Toreador parties, but she had declined every time, because of the promise, she had given her sire. She had been very understanding about it, trying to cheer her up, promising her, that they would soon paint the town red again, when the hunter-issue had been solved. But now, after all this time, she just couldn’t do it any longer. After all, she was a social being and she wanted to go out and drink blood that was warm and hadn’t been in a fridge for several days. Packed blood did the job, yes, but it wasn’t the real deal. It tasted so much better, when she drank from a living person, her earlier encounter had proven this again.

This hunter didn’t know her, he didn’t know what she looked like and he would probably not recognize her as kindred either. After all, she just looked like a regular, very pale, woman, who was just out, having fun. And why would a hunter be in a club like this after all? 

Manon smiled, as she noticed the hot guy, who had caught her eye before, approaching her. He had a nice smile, lovely brown eyes and she could sense his heartbeat quickening as he came closer. Without stopping her dancing, she made eye contact.  
He grinned at her, revealing a row of white teeth.  
“You come here often?” he leaned closer to shout into her ear, swaying with her to the beat of the music. Her new confidence let her respond with a wicked grin. “No, my first time. You?”  
The man grinned and came a little closer.  
“Yeah, on occasion”  
Manon had fed already, but it probably couldn’t hurt, if she would do it again. He had such a lovely neck and if he at least was a little artsy…  
“I’m Brian!” he suddenly told her, grinning at her. “Bridget!” she lied, using the name of her grandmother, the first thing that came to her mind.  
“Do you want to drink something?” he asked, to which she, probably out of instinct nodded, even though she had no intention of drinking anything that they would pour out at the bar, naturally.  
“I’ll be right back!” Brian smiled, his hand casually landing on the smaller of her back, before he made his way through the crowd to the bar.  
The DJ transitioned into a different song. She couldn’t help but to enjoy the music.  
This week had been pretty stressful and now she wanted to dance it all away. She couldn’t remember the last time, when she had felt that relaxed. It was like all the weight, she had been carrying around for such a long time would fall off her with every movement she made.  
Manon had always enjoyed dancing and when she had been alive, she had taken any chance she would get, to go out in a club and be on the dance floor the entire night. When she danced, she was in a trance, just feeling the music flow through her body, making her nerves tingle and her core buzz.

“Darkness just rain falling... From endless skies...” a creepy and surreal voice sounded over the hard and merciless beat. Manon didn’t remember when she had felt this carefree the last time. The music was so good in here and the dancing made her feel free. She wasn’t particularly a fan of dubstep, but in this moment, it just didn’t matter to her anymore. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, lying there softly, but still managing to keep her in place.  
Was Brian back? Well, that was quick.  
The beat dropped pounding deep inside of her, as she swayed her shoulders, leaning a bit back, dancing against the man behind her, feeling his chest against her upper back. He didn’t dance back… how strange. She raised her hands, brushing through her curls, and gracefully turned around to face him. “Heartless just pain coming... From deep inside....“ 

Her mouth dropped open, when she instead stared into the very angry face of her sire, whose eyes were just displaying pure rage. It was then, when she realized, that she was in deep trouble.  
He was wearing his trench coat over his suit, something that looked weird amongst the otherwise barely clothed people in the club, his lower lip quivering.  
“Get out.” She saw the words forming on his lips and as she didn’t react, he grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her away from the dance floor. LaCroix had set a quick pace, and it was hard for her to follow.  
“Hey!” she protested, almost tripping over her own feet, but he didn’t seem to care. He pulled her into the entry hall of the club, where the music was quiet and there were just a bunch of drunk people around, that made a break to smoke or to talk.  
“What are you doing here?” His voice was like thunder, making her stare at him in fear recognising nothing but resentment in his blue eyes. “Are you drunk?” Was he really making a scene here?  
“No!” she protested, mirroring his angry expression.  
“Where is your jacket?” he barked at her, making her hiss in response and pull a ticket for the wardrobe out of her purse. He snatched it out of her fingers, his hand around her lower arm in an iron grip, as he pulled her further, until he came to a hold at the counter, where a bored guy, dressed in a Ministry shirt was browsing through his phone.  
Without a word LaCroix slid the ticket over the table, still glaring.  
Manon took a moment to collect her thoughts. How did he know where to find her? And why would he pick her up like an angry parent? He hadn’t commented on his reasons yet.  
She used the time to throw a quick look at her phone. 37 missed calls and 15 text messages… Oh, dear…  
Suddenly she caught her leather jacket, which he angrily tossed at her.  
“Put it on!” he commanded in a growl, his eyes wandering over her outfit. “How are you even dressed?” his tone sounded disgusted, and before she even had pulled the jacket over her arms, the forcefully dragged her to the exit, almost pushing her out of the building.

When they were outside, she noticed that it was lightly raining.  
“What is this supposed to mean?” she angrily hissed, leaning a bit forward, her face in a frown.  
“You are asking me?” he fumed, “What are you doing here, dressed like that?” he vaguely gestured at her dress again, making her look down at herself.  
“What is wrong with my dress?” she snapped at him. Was he really criticising her outfit? Was it too sexy, to revealing? Why did he care? She was prepared to call him out on this sexist claim.  
“Is this polyester?” he then asked with a disgusted face.  
“No!” she replied in confusion. “Maybe 80%, but… what…” but before she could finish he interrupted her sharply.  
“Being at a downtrodden club like that in anarch territory and fornicating with some humans? This is not the proper way a Ventrue should act! Do you know the consequences this could have on my reputation?”  
“Your reputation? Of course, that’s what it is all about…” she laughed humourlessly, shaking her head. “And by the way, you should be the last person giving me a lecture about fornicating with humans!”  
Shit. This was probably below the belt, and she instantly regretted her words, as she noticed the furious glare he have her.  
“Are you drunk?” He then sighed annoyed “I told you not to go out on your own! Not now! Bach is in town!”  
“So?” Manon scoffed, turning around to leave. “Yeah, because he will surely look for me, right? Good night, Sebastian.”

Roughly he grabbed her upper arm again, stopping her.  
“Are you mad?” he hissed at her, making her flinch. “This man is dangerous! You are a fledgling, not prepared to fight an elite Vampire hunter yet!”  
“I can take care of myself, thank you!” she claimed, trying to break free, but his grip was strong as iron. “And why should he even come after me?”  
LaCroix groaned and pulled her with him. “Because I am your sire. This man wants to see me dead. And that also means my associates!”  
His eyes were angry as he seemed to search for words. Manon was just confused. She knew, that Brother Bach was a vampire hunter, but that he wanted to kill LaCroix specifically was new to her.

“You didn’t answer your phone, you didn’t text me back,… just a simple ‘hello Sebastian, I am hunting in Hollywood and am still alive’ would have sufficed!”  
Finally she managed to escape his grasp, rubbing her arm, sure that he had bruised her.  
“Could you kill someone?” LaCroix asked her aggressively, his jaw clenching and his hands into fists. “I doubt that! But he can. And he will, if he gets the chance!”  
Manon frowned and looked to the ground.  
“Do you know how a shot gun bullet to the head feels? Keep behaving like a stubborn child and not consider my advice, then you might find out, when he runs across you!”  
She noticed how his accent grew thicker, the angrier he got.  
“I… I think I understand…” she whispered, barely audible.  
“I certainly hope so!” he grumbled further, coming closer.  
“I swear if this… this maggot ever touches you, I will…” as if he had said too much, he stopped in his speech, scrutinizing her face.  
She mirrored his expression, until his face softened a bit.  
“I am your sire and I will take care of you…that is a promise and my duty.” he just stated, hesitated but then placed his hands onto her upper arms, framing her.  
“But I cannot do this if you keep acting stupid and irresponsible…” his voice was now a soft whisper, his eyes suddenly displaying deep pain. She suddenly felt his fingers against her cheek. Then she noticed how close his face was to hers, she could count his lashes, if she wanted to, but all she could do was stare at his mouth. She noticed his lips tremble for a moment, his thumb tracing her jawline, before he let go of her.  
Manon exhaled loudly, not sure what to make of this now. He was probably just worried, but the look in his eyes had been so different, unlike the others he had given her before. And the touch of his fingers against her cold skin, the way he smelled, now that she had been so close to him. It had mesmerized her mind a little bit. 

“Who is Brother Bach?” she suddenly asked him, fear in her voice. “And why does he want to kill you?” She had asked him this question before, several times, actually. Never had he given her an explanation, why the arrival of exactly this man was making him so nervous. Hunters per se were nothing unusual in a big city like that. That was why it was crucial to follow the Masquerade. 

LaCroix looked to his right and his left, as if he would fear, that someone could be eavesdropping on them, even though no one was in hearing distance, before he bit his lip. Then he casually pointed at a black limousine that was parking on the opposite side of the street.  
“It’s not safe to talk about it here… let’s get back to the Venture Tower, shall we?”

They were sitting in the food court of the Venture Tower. In between of them, there were two plastic cups filled with coffee from the automatic coffee brewer, steaming hot and probably pretty disgusting, but they knew, they wouldn’t even take a sip of it. It was all part of the Masquerade.  
“So, you killed both his father and his grandfather…” Manon repeated what he had just told her.  
“Yes.” LaCroix crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded. He hadn’t taken off his coat, as they were sitting on a table in the almost empty floor. Only two security guards were sitting a little off, silently staring into their phones in their break.  
Manon placed her hands around to cup, enjoying the warmth of the beverage, and also needed a reason to hold onto anything.  
“It’s some kind of Vendetta against me. I just do not hope he has any children, as this is getting annoying.”  
The corners of his mouth quirked slightly upwards for a second, probably to underline his sarcasm. It had worked, she managed to smile weakly as well.

“Quite frankly, it had been just a matter of time until he found me.” He shrugged his shoulders, staring at the steaming cup.  
“Are you afraid?” Manon whispered. He answered her question with an almost scornful expression, but she was sure, that he was, at least a bit.  
He quickly lowered his gaze and continued to speak.  
“No one is safe, as long he is around… so please, take my request serious.”  
They both fell silent for a time and didn’t dare to look at each other.  
So this was worse than she thought. This guy wasn’t just after any vampire – he was especially after her sire and everyone he was associated with.  
He had probably seen her discontent face, because he sighed deeply and leaned forward.  
“I know, you are probably not happy with this, but try not to get in any dangerous situations. If not for the sake of logic, do it for me then.”  
“I am not as careless as you might think…” she muttered without looking at him, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  
“Tonight, there was an attack Downtown, just around the corner.” He suddenly told her “We haven’t found the hunter who did this yet. He killed a young kindred. A woman”  
Manon tilted her head, his gaze meeting hers, as she looked up again. Tonight?  
“When I heard of it…” he continued and swallowed hard “I… I know it’s foolish, but for a moment I was worried, that it had been you…”  
“Oh!” she made, not quite knowing what to say. So that was what this all was about!  
“And when you didn’t answer my calls, I… I had Mr. Parr track your phone.”  
That was a lot to swallow.  
“You thought I was dead?” she then simply spoke, her hands slightly shaking.  
He didn’t respond, but she already knew the answer. Manon pressed her lips together, sighing.  
Oh, Gosh. But since when was he so concerned with her? She remembered what Gary Golden, the Nosferatu Primogen, has said to her on the phone.  
_Your sire never seems to let you out of his eyesight._  
Did he really?

She leaned back in her chair, unconsciously running her hand through her hair, brushing the strands over her shoulder.  
As she faced him again, she noticed how his eyes had softened and his mouth was a little opened and he had forgotten to breath. Quickly he inhaled deeply and glared at her again.  
Did this just really happen?  
She swallowed as he shook his head, beginning to speak again.  
“And… if you really want to… meet up with someone for a… tryst, I would ask you to make this more discretely…” he then mumbled, not daring to look at her.  
“I wasn’t-“ she started out, uncomfortably, staring at the cup of coffee in front of her.  
“It’s nothing unusual…” he told her, making her awkwardly shift on her chair “For some… it can be a great way of feeding, and kindred can even enjoy it to a certain degree… So don’t think, that just because you are dead, you cannot…”  
Manon buried her face in her hands, groaning in frustration “Please tell me, that we are not having _this talk_ right now! I know how it works and… I am not interested in any kine!”  
She saw how he crossed his arms in front of his chest, seemingly helpless.  
The sound of a chair getting dragged over the stone floor startled the two vampires and they noticed how one of the security guards got up.  
LaCroix threw a glance at his wrist watch.  
“It’s late…” he commented “I will take you home… that’s the least I can do after ruining your night…”  
“Thanks…” she could only mumble, getting up, as he did too.  
They both went towards the elevator, that was still there. She followed him inside, waiting for the doors to close. There again was this bloody mirror.  
Manon studied her reflection. She still looked pretty hot, that at least she could say, with her hair curly and her make up dramatic. And the dress was something she still loved to death. But this was the wrong moment to think about such things. There he was next to her, elegant as always in his suit and trenchcoat, even if this stubborn streak of hair had fallen into his forehead again. She looked so odd in her party outfit next to him.  
“You… do look very lovely tonight…” he suddenly consented.  
Manon had to chuckle.  
“Even if it’s polyester?”  
He now as well had to smile softly, his lips quirking upwards.  
“Even if it’s polyester.” He confirmed.  
“Thanks…” she grinned weakly, searching for his eyes in the mirror.  
They were silent for a moment.  
“Are you still mad at me?” she then asked him.  
LaCroix sighed “No, I’m not mad…” he bit his lower lip “I am disappointed.”

“That isn’t any better.”

“I never said it was.”

The door went open at ground level, and they crossed the hall to the exit.  
The sound of the elevator must have woken Chunk up, because he suddenly yawned, getting all flustered up, as he saw the two of them.  
“Oh, good evening Sir! Miss!” he greeted them. “Long night?”  
LaCroix exchanged a quick look with Manon. It occurred to her, that she had never actually saw him talking to the obese security guard before.

“Yes, Chunk, indeed!” the Prince droned. Manon noticed how Chunk was curiously eying her.  
“So… you stop by at brunch before you are getting home?” he continued, oblivious to their true nature – which made him the perfect lobby boy for this place. “You always work so late, Sir, eating well is the least you could do!”  
“Thank you for the advice.” He lied, nodding towards the door. “But I am terribly tired and I will get to bed as soon as I come home.”  
Again he threw a suspicious glance at the woman.  
“You do that, Sir. Have a pleasant night, you two.”  
“You too, Chunk.” LaCroix smiled, nodding politely at the human, offering Manon his arm, which she took without even thinking about it. “Good night.”


	24. Never let me down again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This slow burn is killing me, but don't worry, it will get romantic soon enough ;)

The coming nights were business as usual.  
The recent incident had been weird. After basically dragging her out of the club, he had confessed that he had been worried of her, because another vampire had been slain by one of the hunters. And then he had taken her home. By foot! He had indeed walked her to her apartment, which was, to be true just a fifteen minute walk away, but both of them had gone by foot, her arm hooked into his until he had said goodbye at the entrance of the building.  
They had talked quite a bit. LaCroix had informed her about the identity of the deceased, she had been a Toreador, Manon had briefly met once or twice. Even though she had just barely known her, her death still had been shocking to her. One moment, she had just attended a party at the Asylum, now she was nothing more than ash in the wind. The thought horrified her.

Carla and Ernest had decided to cheer her up, by throwing a movie night at Manon’s place. For the first time she saw some of the films Carla had starred in, when she had been still alive. The first one had been a historical drama and the second one a 1930s goofball comedy. It had been hilarious, especially since Carla seemed to remember exactly every detail from behind the scenes. 

LaCroix actually managed to not be a complete shithead for almost a week by now.  
Even though he was busy as usual and seemed stressed out, he was actually pretty bearable to be around. From time to time he even managed a smile, that still seemed forced, but at least he was trying. Also he casually had given her a new Vivienne Westwood wristwatch as a present, for no apparent reason really. She hadn’t asked him why he had done so, as she knew he wouldn’t give her a proper answer anyway, but she figured, he still felt bad for what happened the other night. Quickly she had noticed a pattern here – Sebastian’s way of apologizing was through presents. This made her highly uncomfortable, as it put her in a position, where she was obligated to thank him. Not accepting the gifts wasn’t an option, as he could be so persistent about it. Maybe this was just his way of showing that he cared about her? By now she knew, that showing emotions wasn’t his strength, of course not, and she imagined, that being a Ventrue for more than 200 years would do that to you. The thought made her cringe. Would she as well be that cold when she was his age? But maybe this was just him, and even as a human he had been like that? 

It was Thursday night and Manon stood at Carla’s desk, taking a break. She had been working in Sebastian’s office again, but completely alone, as the Prince had to attend a board meeting, like every Thursday at the same time. She had been sitting at her usual spot on the comfy antique sofa, her notebook placed on her lap, but after a while, all she could see were just numbers, that didn’t really make sense and so she decided that she would pay her best friend a visit.  
Tonight Carla was as usual in a good mood, telling her friend about what had happened last night. She had been to a vernissage that took place in a strip club, that was owned by a Toreador. Apparently the dancers had served as living canvases for the artist. Attentively Manon listened to Carla’s story, about how one of them had slipped during a lap dance onto one of the sofas, and had smudged the back of the painting, making the artist almost leave in frustration.  
“It was horrible!” Carla waved her hand “He should have thought at least of the possibility of something like that happening.”  
Manon snickered. “What happened then?”  
“Well, some unfortunate ghoul tried to get the paint off the expensive couch for at least half an hour. V.V. was not amused about her furniture being ruined and I don’t think she will ever let him do an event like that in her club ever again.”  
“V.V.?” the Ventrue wanted to know. Carla nodded eagerly.  
“Velvet Velour.” She explained “She owns the Vesuvius in Hollywood. A very influential Toreador, I would even go so far as calling her the Harpy of this domain… well at least of the Barony.”  
“Harpy?” Manon couldn’t recall what that was.  
“That’s a title within the Camarilla actually.” The Toreador told her “The Harpy is the most influential kindred, style wise but also political. A trendsetter, so to speak, in all matters.”  
Manon nodded, a bit confused, that she hadn’t heard about Velvet Velour yet, if this woman was such an influential personality in Los Angeles.  
Suddenly Carla looked past her, her lips forming a polite smile.  
“Good night, Sir!” she chortled and as Manon turned around, she saw LaCroix approaching them, obviously back from his meeting.  
He looked exhausted, to say the least. In all sincerity, she as well smiled at him, though not as bright as Carla did.   
“Good night.” He greeted both of them, his eyes lingering first on Carla and then on Manon.  
“Miss Lovett, would you please join me in my office?” he then asked, his brows slightly twitching “I’ve got an important task for you.”  
Manon nodded and followed him, after briefly winking at her friend. He set a rather quick pace and she had to hurry to keep up.  
“How was the meeting?” she asked him.   
“Good.” Sebastian answered briefly and she suspected that this wasn’t the truth. As they reached the door of his office, she saw, that the sheriff had taken his position in front of it. Strange, she hadn’t noticed him passing her and Carla at the welcome desk before.

The brute held the door open for the two Ventrue to enter and closed it afterwards. As soon, as it fell shut, his shoulders seemed to relax. She watched him sitting down at his desk, opening up his notebook.  
Manon grabbed her notepad and a pencil, that had been lying on the sofa table, next to her laptop and approached him.  
“So?” she started out “You’ve got a task for me?”

LaCroix looked up, as if he had just remembered, that she had been here. A weak smile appeared on his face.  
“Yes.” He spoke “Two tasks, actually.”  
She glanced at him, tilting her head slightly.

“Firstly, considering the hunters, I have written a letter that I want delivered to the Baroness of Santa Monica.” He opened a drawer of his desk and took out a white envelope.  
“Voerman?” she asked, writing the name down.  
“Yes, Therese.” He added, handing her the letter, but before she could grasp it, he pulled back his hand again.  
“Give this letter to no one other than Therese.” LaCroix told her, his face serious.  
“Okay.”  
“To no one other. Not the bartender, her assistant and especially not Jeanette.” He emphasized.  
“Understood!” Manon nodded, a bit confused, before he finally handed her the letter.  
“Good.” The prince sighed, pressing his eyes shut for a moment. “Mr. Brooks is awaiting you at the garage to accompany you on your mission.”  
“Who is that?” she asked.  
“A hound.” Sebastian explained “He will be responsible for your protection tonight.”  
Before she could protest, he raised his hand. “I would advise you not to contradict with me on this. I wouldn’t trust anyone with this task.” Great, he had ordered a babysitter. 

“Okay.” She gave in, writing it down on her notepad. “Is there anything else you need me to take care of?”  
“Yes, I need to inform you about an event in two weeks.” He began, leaning back in his chair. “There will be the celebration of my birthnight and I rented a cruise liner as the location of the party. It will take off from San Francisco and will travel back to Los Angeles.”  
Manon tilted her head. “Your birthnight?”  
“Yes, the night that I was embraced.” He waved his hand “We Ventrue celebrate this night with huge festivities.”  
LaCroix pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and his thumb “I’ve been planning this party for almost two months now.” He sighed, shaking his head, as if the planning of a party was equally exhausting to starting up a company. “I know, there are more urgent matters at the moment, but I really don’t have a choice here.”  
“You’ve rented a cruise liner… for a party?” Manon repeated, still not quite understanding. This must be a joke. No one in their right mind would spend so much money on… oh.  
“Indeed. Just for close friends, associates, business partners…. The inner circle.”  
He folded his hands, pressing his lips together.  
“Wow… this sounds amazing.” She finally said, still wondering about all the strange Ventrue traditions she had yet to learn. Was she also expected to plan two months on a party or spend as much money on just one or two nights?  
“It better will be.” He smirked, ceremonially pressing the enter button on his notebook. “I’ve ordered so much blood already, in almost every quality… but they probably will bring along their blood dolls anyway. They always do.”  
“You seem to know a lot of people…” she concluded, watching one of his mouth corners going upwards.   
“Valuable contacts.” He explained “A favour for a favour, you see. Something you will have to learn as well.”  
He paused, looking at her for a moment.  
Manon shook her head briefly, snapping out of the ideas of possible parties she would throw in her afterlife, smiling lightly.

“So, will I be needed in the Ventrue tower during your absence?” she then asked politely.  
LaCroix just looked at her, as if she had spat on the floor and blinked a few times. This had been probably a stupid question, there was so much work to do here, that she must have known that her presence was important here, while her sire celebrated his birthnight.  
“Manon, you will be coming with me.” He spoke, his brows furrowed in confusion “I thought this was clear.”  
“What?” she gasped, dropping her pen. The woman just stared at him, not caring about the dark object rolling over the floor. “You mean… I am invited?”  
“Of course!” he shook his head, clicking a window on his computer, then looking back at her. “You are my fledgling, you belong to my inner circle. Why should I leave you here?”  
A smile spread across her face, as she noticed how LaCroix himself suppressed a slight smirk at the misunderstanding.  
“Seriously, sometimes I get the feeling that you think I don’t like you.” He muttered to himself, making her look at her hands for a moment.  
He clicked again, crooking two fingers at her, asking her to come closer.  
“Come and look!” the Prince showed her a picture of a giant cruise ship on his display. “This is the ship. And…” he clicked another thing “This is the main hall. And here we have the upper deck.” In Awe Manon looked at the photos he showed to her. Indeed this looked more than luxurious and she instantly felt flustered in anticipation.  
“Gosh, this looks amazing!” she yelped excitedly, clapping her hands.  
“Mhm!” he made, seemingly enjoying how much she admired the location.  
“These are the guest cabins!” she saw how a pop up opened and there was the picture of a room, that was quite spacy for being on a ship with a huge extravagant bed.  
“Beautiful!” she gasped, leaning onto the chair he was sitting on. He was so close to her again, she could smell his expensive perfume. Discretely she took a deep breath, savouring the masculine scent.  
“And these are just the one for the guests. I, of course will stay in the royal suite.”  
A light arrogant undertone swung in his voice, as he clicked the arrow on the website, and there was a gallery of the most luxurious cabin she had ever seen.  
Dark wood, a huge bed, expensive Persian carpets, a modern bathroom and a huge balcony. The windows hat shutters so he wouldn’t have to fear sunlight during the day. It looked so perfect and there was no place she couldn’t imagine him in better.  
“Ooh, a hot tub!” she exclaimed, as he clicked through the pictures.  
“Hm.” He made “Though I am not really fond of these.”  
Seriously? How could anyone not be fond of hot tubs?  
“How long are we going to stay?” she asked him, a keen grin on her face.  
“Well, we will take a plane on Friday evening, and hopefully arrive around midnight, where there will be just a little reception for the guests and the real festivities will take place on Saturday. Then on Sunday, there will be the second day of the festivities and on Monday, the ship will land in L.A..”  
“Four days!” she gasped in surprise.  
“Three and a half, to be precise.” he shook his head slightly annoyed and rested his chin on his hand. “I am not all too enthusiastic on wasting that much time, but I have a reputation to keep up…”  
She couldn’t believe it. They would be away four nights on the most luxurious cruise ships she had ever seen in her life! This sounded almost too good to be true!  
“That’s why I wanted to ask you for a… personal favour.” He suddenly said, making her look up.  
“Anything.” She whispered.  
Her answer seemed to confuse him for a moment, and she couldn’t tell why.  
“Could you prepare a musical selection?” he then asked her. Out of all the things he could have wanted, this was the one she had expected the least.  
“You mean…a playlist?” she stuttered, making him nod in confirmation.  
“Yes.” LaCroix continued “As you are the youngest member of my court, I am sure you can put together something modern that fits the occasion.”  
A wide smile spread across her face. “I get to choose the music?” she repeated, supressing a giggle, to which he blinked one time, tilting his head a little.  
“Yes.” He then confirmed “Go wild. Choose whatever you like.”  
“Anything?” Manon breathed, not quite believing what he was proposing.  
“Well…” he started out and leaned back, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Not that kind of music, where all you hear is people scream, or swear too much… but I trust that you have got a good taste.”  
“How could you know?”  
“Originally I asked Carla, if she could do this, but she recommended, that I ask you.” The Prince explained, shrugging his shoulders. “So. Will you do it?”  
Against her better judgement a wide grin spread across her face. “Of course! And thank you for the invitation!”  
“You are welcome.” Sebastian responded smirking weakly, before he rolled his eyes without malice. “Now, out with you, before Mr. Brooks gets bored in the garage.”

Mr. Brooks was already waiting for her in front of an unobtrusive black car. He was tall, appeared like he was in his late thirties with immaculate white teeth and friendly dimples in his cheeks. Gosh, why were Ventrue men so attractive? The suit he wore was well fitted, but on his dark brown hair, he wore an elaborate dress hat with a feather attached to the headband.  
“Miss Lovett, I presume!” he said politely, bowing his head, accompanied by a smile.  
“…Yes.”she stuttered like a fool, still a little overwhelmed by the gesture.  
“My name is Brooks.” He continued “Tonight, I will be responsible for your safety.”  
He briefly winked at her, making her swoon a little.

Traffic was slow tonight, so they needed a bit longer than usual to reach Santa Monica. Brooks was actually a really interesting guy. He had told her that he had been a quite notorious mobster during the Prohibition, smuggling alcohol to the US, until he had been embraced 1929 by a Ventrue, as a personal body guard. Since, he had served the Camarilla, even after the early demise of his sire and since the sect had been established in L.A. he had served as a hound to the Prince. It wasn’t hard to imagine this charming man sitting in a Jazz Club, sipping on expensive alcohol in a pin striped suit, next to him a cello case, containing a tommy gun. As they were stuck in traffic, he turned on a radio station, that currently broadcasted a quite famous late-night show, called ‘The Deb of the night”.  
“You know.” He started out, as the hostess Deb took on a caller with the name of Gomez, who seemingly called quite frequently, sharing weird conspiracy theories, only to have poked fun at him by the hostess of the show. “Sometimes I think she knows…”  
“What do you mean?” Manon swallowed. He was silent for a moment, tapping his fingers against the stirring wheel. “About us, I mean, us Kindred. It’s uncanny.”  
“Maybe she is Kindred herself? Or a ghoul?” Manon suggested, to have him respond with a light chuckle.  
“I have thought of that as well…” Brooks confessed, licking his lower lip. “But no one seems to know her. I would really like to meet her, you know. She seems so … interesting.”  
So he had the hots for the Deb of the night? This was actually quite endearing.

Finally, they had reached Santa Monica. Brooks parked the limousine in front of a pawn shop and opened the door for her. They both walked towards the Asylum, but Brooks didn’t lead her to the front entrance, but instead, she followed him into an alley next to it.  
“Use the side entrance.” He explained, pointing at a door, she hadn’t noticed before.  
“I’ll be waiting here until you come back.” The man continued, folding his arms in front of his chest “The guy at the bar despises me.”  
The woman had to chuckle, before she opened the door.  
“See you later, then.” 

Loud music greeted her, as she stepped into the club. It wasn’t as crowded tonight, as the last time, she had been here, just a few obviously drunk or high people, where dancing at the front of the empty stage. Curiously she looked around, hoping to spot either Therese or at least her sister somewhere, but they were nowhere to be seen.  
She decided to ask the guy who was currently polishing a glass behind the bar, an overweight, bald headed man, whose body was covered in tattoos.   
“Hello, sugarplum.” He greeted her, his face spreading into a somewhat cocky grin, his deep voice, probably scarred by alcohol and cigarettes louder than the music. “Can I get you anything?”  
“Actually no.” Manon revealed “I am looking for Therese!”  
His expression changed from the flirty softness to a wary glare.”  
“Who sent you, doll?” the Bartender asked suspiciously.  
Manon took a deep breath.  
“LaCroix.” She then answered, making the man roll his eyes.  
“Elevator on the right, first floor.” He barked over the sound of the music, busying himself with cleaning the bar. Manon nodded respectfully and turned on her heel to get to the elevator.

The elevator was pretty old, making terrible noises until it arrived with an annoying “bing” at the desired destination.  
Manon got out, telling herself to take the stairs back down, when she would leave. She stood in a red room, with a huge mirror on the wall. For a moment, she scrutinized her own appearance. Her outfit for tonight was – rather boring to be frank. Just a plain, black pencil dress with silken tights and the kitten heel pumps, that were quite comfortable. Over the dress she wore a dark grey cardigan. Nothing spectacular. She probably looked really preppy right now. After a brief moment, she walked towards the door, that was next to the mirror, knocking three times.

“Come in!” a female voice chortled through the door, as she opened it and slipped into the room.  
To her misery, she did in fact not find Therese, but her sister Jeanette, dressed in a skimpy school girl outfit with knee high combat boots.  
“Oh, if it isn’t our little princess!” the woman purred seductively.  
“Hello Jeanette.” She greeted the blonde. “How are you?”  
She licked her lower lip, pulling her shirt in place.  
“It couldn’t be better.” She shrugged, tilting her head to the side.  
“Good to hear.” Manon responded “Is your sister here by any chance?”  
“No.” the woman pouted “She just left.”  
“Oh.”

Jeanette flashed a bright grin at her.  
When she had met the Malkavian the first time, she had just thought of her as quirky and charming, but now, being alone with that woman, made her highly uncomfortable.   
“Can you tell me, when she will be here again?” she then asked “I’ve got a letter for her.”  
“No idea.” Jeanette confessed “But you can give the letter to me?”  
She shook her head. “I am sorry, I have the order to only hand it over to Therese.”  
“Come on!” she tried to convince her “Won’t your sire be angry, if you return without the letter delivered?” This was a rather personal question, wasn’t it?   
“Let me worry about that.” She replied, swallowing hard, as she came closer.  
“That’s so unfair!” Jeanette whined “Why does everybody treat me like a child?”  
Manon wasn’t interested in her tantrum, to be honest, this was none of her concern, but nevertheless she felt bad for her. Compared to her sister, she indeed seemed more childish.  
“I will give the letter to her, I promise!” the blonde sobbed, brushing her fingers through her pigtails.  
“I have promised, to deliver the letter to no one else but your sister.” The Ventrue shrugged. “I am sorry.”  
“Alright!” she sighed, dropping her shoulders in disappointment. “But you are such a meanie, if you manage to live with the knowledge, that you broke my heart!”  
Was she now trying to extort her with this? “I am sorry.” Manon repeated “And I wish you a pleasant night.”  
This phrase was taken one to one from the things LaCroix uses to say, she had actually heard him say so many times before. With a polite nod, she approached the door, feeling the woman’s eyes in her neck.

“And darling?” Manon turned around, as she heard the Malkavian call her “Tell your sire something from me, would you?”  
“Sure, what shall I tell him?” Manon asked curiously.  
Her lips spread into a wide grin, baring her immaculate teeth. Her right hand made a finger gun.  
“Bang! Bang!” she grinned, blowing invisible smoke from her index finger, as if she just had shot somebody with it.  
“Okay…” Manon answered a bit confused, but decided to deliver the message nevertheless.  
Having not accomplished the task at hand had left her unsatisfied. Also the Malkavian had made no sense. She couldn’t even tell her when her sister would be back. 

When she exited through the side entrance, Brooks wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Strange, didn’t he say, that he would be waiting for her?  
Then she saw something red lying on the ground, that looked oddly familiar. Had he lost his hat?  
She picked it up and noticed, that the red hat was stained with black dust, that looked almost like…

As she looked closer, she discovered a pile of ash underneath the hat. Suddenly it hit her, but as she had fully grasped the situation, it was already too late, when heard someone approaching.  
Quickly she spun around and saw a young woman behind her. She was dressed completely in black, with steel cap combat boots and carried a burning torch in one of her hands.   
Shit.  
The Ventrue’s eyes went wide in panic, but before she could do anything, the woman pulled something out of a pocket, that was on her belt. Quickly she recognised the shining object as a cross.

“Die, you demon!” she spoke, holding it towards Manon. First she wanted to laugh, but soon she noticed that the mere sight of this religious object was making her sick to the bone. With a hysteric hiss, she backed away, which took all the time the woman needed to approach her.   
Was this true faith? Why did this symbol hurt so bad?  
The first punch hit her in the face, making her head tilt to the side, the second was against her knee cap, bringing her to a fall. She landed on the hard ground, her head hitting against a trash can, making an awful sound.  
The huntress was now over her, looking down at the vampire with a vile grin.  
“Burn in hell!” she spat, reaching for another pocket, revealing a wooden stake.

Manon wailed in pain, as the woman stepped onto her hair, while her other foot kicked into her stomach.  
Out of blood shot eyes, she could only focus on the flame, that threatened to devour her, making her undead body burn. The gloved hand of the woman was tightly gripped around the stake, ready to pierce it through her heart.

But suddenly everything turned red. She felt, like she wasn’t in control of her body anymore, that she was nothing more than a puppet, controlled by a cruel and unforgiving puppeteer, pulling her strings to make hr obey his will. With a strength, she thought she didn’t have, she jumped onto her feet and charged at the woman, who stared at her in pure horror.  
The only things she felt at that moment, were pure anger, pain and rage.  
With utmost brutality, she pounced onto the woman, who dropped her torch and the stake in surprise, the Ventrue’s nails ripping the fabric on her back open, while the hunter struggled for balance. Out of a perverted instinct Manon bit down, as soon as the woman’s neck was within reach. She devoured the blood, that was spilling into her mouth, tasting foul and bad, but whatever was guiding her right now didn’t care. This thing that had taken her over, had just one goal – to kill.  
With the third gulp, she noticed how the woman collapsed, falling onto her back with Manon still wrapped around her, continuing to drain her. Her heart raced with utmost speed, but just a few sips later it stopped.  
Feverishly, she sucked at her neck until she was completely empty.  
With an exhausted sigh, she dropped onto the corpse, her head against the dead one’s chest. She could feel the stickiness of the woman’s blood against her cheek.  
Shit. What had she just done? Panicked, she managed to sit up and gather her thoughts. She had just killed someone! Actually bled this woman dry! It took some time, but eventually the red haze that had tainted her thoughts disappeared, leaving her back with the guilt.

“No.” she whimpered “No, no, no, no! You can’t be dead!” Her fingers cupped the girl’s face, only staring in watery, lifeless eyes. Just then she noticed that some of her ribs were apparently fractured, hurting badly.  
Suddenly she felt nauseous. Manon just managed to get up onto her shaking feet and stumble towards a wall, to prop herself up, before she vomited all out.   
Streams of blood were forced up her throat, splashing onto the street, reeking like death and despair.  
“Oh, god, no…” she sobbed, her whole body shaking. This was a mess! What had she done!  
And what should she do now?  
She needed a few moments to gather her thoughts, but it was more difficult than expected. What just had happened had been downright evil. She was a murderer and had violently taken the life of this poor woman. The huntress had attacked her first, but did she deserve to die? If Manon would have been better at her disciplines, like Dominate, she could have ordered the girl to go away, but unfortunately she hadn’t thought of that, as she had been consumed by blind rage.

She should call for help! After all her escort had been murdered! And where was her bloody phone?  
Her handbag was lying a few inches away from her. Clumsily, she reached down to grab it, pulling her phone out. Her fingers managed to press the name, she had on speed dial, holding it up, heavily breathing, and awaiting him to pick up.

“Yes?” the usual disinterested tone of her sire was audible, as she pressed herself against the moist brick wall, her hand clenched to a fist, as she didn’t know what to do now.  
“Sebastian…” she whispered into the phone. “Help me…”  
“Manon, where are you?” his voice was sharp all of the sudden. “What is going on?”  
“I… I think I just frenzied…” she burst out into tears, wiping them away with the sleeve of her cardigan “I… I… there was this woman…she attacked me with a torch... Brooks is dead.”  
She heard him utter a curse in his mother’s tongue under his breath, before he cleared his throat.  
“Stay with me!” LaCroix commanded, as she sniffed. “Did you kill her?”  
“… Yes…” Manon cried, looking at the corpse on the ground, that laid there, stiff and cold, her eyes still open. She covered her mouth with her hand to bite back a howl of despair.  
“Stay calm, where are you?” he then asked, emphasizing on each word.   
“Santa Monica… next to the Asylum…”   
She heard him sigh deeply, herself having a hard time to hold her cellphone up, as she felt so terrible sick and thirsty.  
“Stay where you are, I am coming to pick you up!” he told her hastily, hanging up.  
Shaking her back slid down the wall, until she sat down on the dirty ground, next to a smelly trashcan.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh…” she muttered, wrapping her arms around her knees, swinging back and forth slightly. She had just killed someone – a human being, someone who had lived, breathed, had had dreams, hopes, fears, ambitions,… She had took her down in self-defence, indeed, but this didn’t justify the way she had… shred that poor woman to pieces.  
The torch had been too much. Disgusted of herself, she pressed her back harder against the wall. Who was she to take another one’s life?  
Had she truly become a monster?  
Tears kept running down her face, spoiling even more blood and she knew that this was bad, but there was nothing she could do about it.  
She was a killer.  
A cold-hearted monster. Maybe the hunters were right, maybe they should all be eradicated from the earth’s surface. Maybe the creatures that hunted the night should not exist at all.  
She didn't know how long she sat there.  
A part of her wished, the dawn would come soon and burn her, so she finally felt the grace of a final death, that put an end to her misery and made the world lighter of one monster.

Suddenly she heard a car, that stopped near her. The door was opened and feet touched the ground, drawing closer.  
Startled, she robbed backwards further into the shadows, until she recognized the familiar frame, that was now standing between the darkness of the alley and the light from the neon signs on the main street.  
“Manon?” LaCroix whispered softly.  
The woman only managed to whimper, which made him come closer.  
She couldn’t answer as she still felt the coil in her throat, making her swallow hard.  
“Take my hand.” He then asked, after reaching her, holding out his hand towards her.  
The woman reached out for him, her fingers finally getting a grasp of his cold hand, that felt like it belonged to a dead man.  
The prince helped her up, steadying her, as she wasn’t quite able to stand on her own in her state.   
“Are you alright?” he asked with a worried gaze, making her shake her head.  
There he was… her guardian angel… always there to help her, when she was in trouble.  
“Look into my eyes.” He suddenly ordered, scrutinizing her gaze.  
With a bitter certainty he nodded his head, the corners of his mouth pulled down.   
“You frenzied…” he stated “I still can see it in your eyes… let’s hurry to the car.”  
“B-ut the corpse?” she whispered panicked.   
“Don’t worry, I have arranged everything. A ghoul is on his way and will clean this mess up.”  
She suddenly felt sick again. “This mess” as he had said, used to be a human once. A person!  
But he handled it like an inconvenience, like a stain of coffee on his shirt. Something you needed to get rid of. Dirt. Filth.   
Her hand was still wrapped around his and she tried to walk out of the alley, to get into the car. Manon managed to take a few steps, until she collapsed against him.  
She was still tainted with the hunter’s blood, so she was sure, that she had ruined his suit, making her feel even more terrible about herself.  
“I’ve got you…” he ensured her, propping her up and putting her right arm around his shoulder, while he held her secure at her waist.  
She hissed in pain.  
“What is it?” he asked, watching as she pressed her hand against the side of her chest.  
“She… she cracked some of my ribs…” Manon told him, making his grip around her loosen a little, to not cause her any more pain.  
In that manner, he helped her lump to the limousine, that was already waiting.  
Step for step, he managed to get her into the car, setting her down onto the backseats, before he got in himself after her, so that he was now sitting right next to her.  
The driver started the engine, as soon, as the door was closed, taking them away from this godforsaken place.  
“Sebastian, I am sorry…” Manon could only cry, her voice weaker than ever before.  
Wordlessly he handed her a blood pack, that he pulled out of a pocket of his coat.  
Suddenly the beast roared underneath her skin and she couldn’t help but to devour the blood he had just brought her.  
He watched her with a worried gaze.  
“Thank you…” she only managed to say but she didn’t come up with the courage to make eye contact. What he must think of her now?  
Rain drops slammed against the car’s window, being the only sound in the car for several minutes.

“I still remember how horrible my first frenzy was…” he suddenly told her.   
“You frenzied?” she asked softly, her head clearing slowly.  
LaCroix scoffed. “God, of course. Like every kindred sooner or later.”  
Was this really something that occurred so frequently?  
“Did you kill someone?” she asked him the question he had probably dreaded.  
“Yes…” he then confessed “Two street musicians.”  
“Oh.” She made, surprised by the thought that the prince could lose his precious control as well.  
“Don’t blame yourself… it is the beast, when… when it gets provoked, you frenzy. I can assure you, the older you get, the more self-control you gain, the easier it gets for you to resist… but it can happen – even to Metuselah. No one is immune. This is our curse.” He glanced at her “You see, humans are… so fragile in nature, they… break so easily.”  
“I just killed her… like a fly… I just… drank until she collapsed in my arms and her heart stopped beating…” she explained breathlessly, wiping her hand over her blood stained cheek.  
“She was a hunter. She would have killed you, if she had the chance.” He reminded her with a stern look. “Don’t blame yourself.”  
A sigh left her lips, as she suddenly felt the exhaustion of the frenzy in her bones. It had been dreadful, but on the other hand equally exciting, which was the thing that made it even more horrible to her.  
Manon had problems keeping her eyes open, as the steady beat of the rain drops and the humming sound of the engines made her tired.  
Without her doing, she leaned against his shoulder and had her eyes shut.  
She noticed how he flinched at first, but he didn’t seem to do anything else about it.  
“Do you remember what is what like to be human?” she then asked out of the blue, her voice already weak. He made a noise that almost sounded like a gasp.  
“Yes.” He finally answered her “Vividly.”  
He shifted his position a bit, but in a way, that made her head lie on his shoulder a little more comfortable. Even through the stench of the hunter’s blood that was still on her, she registered how good he smelled.  
“Rest.” He whispered and she could feel his breath against the top of her head. “You must be exhausted.”   
All of the sudden she felt incredibly relaxed. He had saved her once again. The stress finally took its toll on her, as she had a hard time staying awake. The car stopped at a traffic light, when she passed out.


End file.
